Your Lonely Calls to Me
by 8ucky8arnes
Summary: From the moment Clarice met John, she felt that there was something pulling her towards him, something buried in the shadows of those dark eyes that held so many promises. Promises of things she never thought she could have, a better life, a safe place...but she'd learned from a very young age that promises could be broken just as easily as they were made. [Modern AU- No Powers]
1. Chapter 1

The first chapter of this story is a reposting from Stars on Our Knuckles so the same warnings for mentions of PTSD, panic attacks, and past child and animal abuse in this piece. I don't know how quickly I'll be updating this AU because I have no clue where I'm going with this story, but I hope you all enjoy the story!

* * *

Clarice didn't immediately look up when the door to the shelter opened, too engrossed in paperwork to hear the bell ringing over the cacophony of barking coming from the kennels behind her. At least she didn't until Zingo lifted her head to the door, ears lifting.

Zingo herself had been an arrival to the shelter two months ago, starved and nearly beaten to death. Whatever had been done to her had, understandingly, made her skittish around most people (especially men).

She must've seen something in Clarice (most likely shared experiences) and refused to leave her side, sitting curled by her feet every day without fail. She'd never shown interest when anyone came, usually hiding under the desk instead so Clarice glanced up to find two people hovering in the doorway and they could not have been more different.

One was a pale, green-haired woman, looking every inch the badass biker chic while her companion was a tall, broad-shouldered man who looked more the strong and silent type. The woman was saying something to him, but the man's dark eyes seemed to be scanning the shelter _really _intensely.

Clarice caught the gleam of dog tags around his neck and her heart ached in realization. She'd seen enough brutalized animals in the shelter the recognize the signs of trauma in a person. He obviously wasn't going to start growling at her, but there was something in his eyes and the way he was putting himself between the door and his companion…

She stood, the movement getting their attention. She hoped her smile didn't falter as the woman's sharp gaze turned on her and the man regarded her with a hard, cataloging stare, "My name is Clarice. Is there any I can help you…" She trailed off as Zingo uncurled herself and ran around the desk…right at the man. "Zingo!"

The dog ignored her, sniffing at the man curiously.

Clarice didn't want to go and try to pull her away too suddenly (for either of their sakes) and she could only watch the strange, almost alien interaction with wide eyes as the man looked down at her with an unreadable expression as Zingo licked his hand before walking around him once, twice before curling into a ball at his feet.

The woman looked between him and Clarice. "Does he normally do that?"

"She." She corrected automatically, "And no, she doesn't. Zingo's…terrified of men."

"You hear that, John?" The woman smiled, "_Zingo _likes you."

Clarice went to walk around the desk and John to talk with the woman when she was startled by the sound of Zingo growling…at _her. _She glanced at the man realizing her proximity had made him go completely rigid. She held up hands up and stepped back slowly, "Okay, girl, I'm moving back alright. I'm going."

"She's a protective one isn't she?" The woman noted.

"Yeah, but…" Clarice watched as Zingo almost _guided_ him over into the row of chairs in the corner, like she knew him being in the open made him nervous. "I've never seen her like this with anyone else but me."

She hummed, "My name is Lorna, by the way."

Clarice nodded, leaning back against the front desk, "How long has he been back?"

Lorna's glanced at her once before looking over at John. "About a month." She worried her lip, "He's refusing to talk about it or go to group therapy. He hasn't been sleeping and he's told me he's fine but…"

She nodded, "Has he tried applying for a service dog?"

Lorna sighed, "The estimated wait time is nearly two years."

Clarice looked over at John and Zingo, the dog having climbed up onto the chairs and rested her head on John's thigh. He ran his fingers through her fur, the nervous, agitated air around him seemed to have lessened, "They've really connected."

"Yeah, that's the most at ease I've seen him since he's been back." Lorna's worry seemed to have lessened as well, but her sadness was still very much evident, "I'm assuming Zingo is not up for adoption?"

"Not yet, we're still getting her back to a healthy weight, but after that…"

"She's not yours?"

"No." Clarice shook her head, "She's taken a shining to me, but…"

Lorna nodded, "Does that mean you're willing to part with her?"

She chuckled, "I'll miss her, but I can see that she's needed elsewhere."

"When do you think she'll be ready?"

Clarice looked over in time to see John smile down at Zingo, her heart lurching in her chest. It was like watching a light break over the horizon, the action completely transforming his features into something breathtaking and beautiful…she cleared her throat, shaking her head, "Uh…it'll probably be two more weeks, just to be sure."

"Well then, I guess we'll be back in two weeks."

"Wait." Clarice turned, wondering what the hell she was doing as she scrawled her cell number down on a sticky note. "This is my number. If you want any updates or want to swing by here again, just gimme a call."

"Thanks." Lorna was looking at her a little strangely. "I will."

Clarice watched the two of them leave, catching John's gaze as the door shut. She felt pinned by those dark eyes in a way that should've frightened her, should've had her putting as much distance between them, but there was something buried in those depths…

Zingo barked, snapping her out of…whatever that was.

"Hey girl, seems you made a new friend huh?"

She licked her hand before going back to the bed and curling up.

Clarice laughed, "You are such a weirdo."

…

It had been nearly four days since she'd talked to Lorna and John and Clarice couldn't help but wonder why she was so anxious for them to call and she'd almost given on hearing from them until the two week mark rolled around when she was awoken in the middle of the night by her phone's shrill ringing.

"Hello?" She held back a yawn, "Who is it?"

"Clarice, it's Lorna."

She reached blindly, turning on the light and running a hand through her hair, "Lorna, what-?"

"It's John."

Ice slide down her spine, shocking Clarice in alertness, "What's-what's going on?"

"Can you bring Zingo by? He's not…he's in the middle of a pretty bad flashback and I can't snap him out it." Lorna's voice trailed off as a crash sounded, "Please, just come over. I'll give the address."

_This was crazy. _She'd only met them once…there was no reason she should even been considering this but she couldn't get the one smile out of her mind. There was a light buried in him, underneath the weight he carried. "Give me the address."

She scrawled it down, "I can be there in ten." Clarice hung up and scrambled through her apartment, pulling her hair back into a messy bun and throwing on the first clothes she could find before grabbing her keys, "Come on, girl. Let's go."

Her fingers were white-knuckled on the steering wheel as she followed her phone's GPS to the address, an apartment complex, and practically ran up three flights of stairs with Zingo right on her heels. She stopped when she saw Lorna standing outside a slightly ajar door, resting her head against the doorframe. "John, please…it's Lorna."

"Lorna?"

The woman spun around, relief flashing through her eyes before another thud sounded. She didn't even get a chance to do or say anything before Zingo went into the apartment, holding up a hand to stop Clarice from following.

She came closer though, peeking her head just far enough past the doorframe to see.

The apartment looked as though a hurricane had torn through it: overturned furniture and glass glittered on the wooden floor. In the center of all was John, sitting with his back against the couch with his head bowed and one arm on a drawn up knee.

Zingo rested her head on the leg curled underneath the other and something in Clarice was drawn to the sight of his bloody knuckles as he ran gentle fingers through the mottled gray-black fur, the red bright against the white spots as he moved back and forth, back and forth…

She blinked, feeling two points of heat on her, realizing he'd lifted his head to look at her.

Those eyes were dark with shadows, with ghosts, with demons…

_Where was that light she'd seen before?_

"John?" Lorna's voice was soft, "You back with us?"

His whole expression went eerily blank for a couple seconds before he shook his head and forced a small smile that had nothing behind it. He pushed himself up, careful of the glass as he went to the sink and turned on the water.

Lorna pursed her lips together at the lack of verbal response, but said nothing more as she stepped through the door and motioned for Clarice to follow. She looked down at Zingo with almost a thankful look.

Clarice watched him run his hands under the stream, noting the lack of anything telling her that he felt pain which was all the more concerning considering the water looked to be scalding. She knew she should wait for a queue from Lorna or him, but she walked over to him anyway.

John body stiffened but he didn't move away as she came to his side.

"Do you have a first aide kit?" She refused to look at his face. _No telling what stupid thing she'd do then…_ She focused instead on his split knuckles and the bruises darkening on his brown skin, "Those hands need to be bandaged."

He shut the water off, "There's no need. I've inconvenienced you enough tonight."

She glanced back at Lorna, who only mouthed _good luck_.

Clarice sighed, reaching out to catch one of his hands in hers and she tried to ignore the shock that went up her arms at the contact. She felt him flinch and Clarice was surprised that he didn't immediately rip his hand away. "You're bleeding, just let me help."

Then he pulled away, "I can wrap my own hands."

She looked over at Lorna, "First aid kit? And rubbing alcohol?"

"I'll go get it."

Now John looked frustrated, "Look ma'am, but I don't-"

"It's Clarice." She cut him off and finally met his eyes. "And I'm going to help. So sit."

He almost appeared shocked by her stubbornness but the gritted teeth also told her that he abhorred accepting help from anyone and Clarice could see the reasons for Lorna's concern more clearly. This man seemed to think he could hide his pain from others like a wounded animal who licked their own wounds in private to keep anyone from knowing there was something wrong to begin with.

Lorna reentered, a white metal box in hand, and sighed, "_Christ_, John just let her help."

He shot the woman a glare.

She snorted, "I'm not one of your men, Proudstar. That look won't work on me."

Clarice almost laughed at the clear exasperation that flashed across his face, the anger fading as he looked between the two of them. She wondered what he saw as he let out a long breath and leaned back against the counter in resignation.

Lorna handed her the kit.

She set it on the counter and pulled out what she needed, opening the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. "I need you to give me a hand…" Clarice took his proffered hand and guided it over the sink, "and this will definitely hurt."

He hissed as she poured it over his knuckles. "Thanks for the warning."

She smiled as she grabbed a roll of bandages, "Figured you already knew that."

He was silent as she started unraveling the roll.

Clarice once again refused to meet that eyes boring into her head, the feeling of his hand in hers and the heat of his body was distracting enough without adding anything else to the mix. She instead tried to remember everything Denise had ever told her about how to correctly wrap a hand, "Straighten out your fingers for me."

He did as she asked, "You ever do this before?"

"Once or twice." She replied, "My last foster mom was an ER nurse."

John hummed, "Looks like you got into a few fights yourself."

Clarice glanced at her own scarred knuckles, "Yeah well, the little ones were easier targets so…"

"You protected them from the other kids?"

"Sometimes." She responded vaguely, "Your other hand please."

"So who protected you from the adults?"

She poured the hydrogen peroxide over his split skin without warning, the words coming out harder than she wanted them to. "I protected myself."

"Sorry…" he grimaced, "I didn't mean to drug up anything."

She almost laughed. _Seriously? _The man had literally almost destroyed his apartment during a nightmare-induced flashback and he was apologizing for something that had happened to her over a decade ago. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"He's a big boy." Lorna grinned, sitting on the island, "He can take it."

John's smile was fond when he looked at her, "_Shilah_…"

"_Bruder_." She responded in kind, swinging her legs.

Clarice watched the interaction as she finished wrapping his second hand, their relationship suddenly coming into light. She seemed more a concerned, nagging little sister than a hovering girlfriend and for a moment, Clarice wondered why she was so _relieved_ at the revelation.

She twisted the lid back on the bottle and gathered up the used supplies, going to walk past him.

He caught her forearm, "Hey, I really am sorry. I know I woke you up and…"

Clarice's face warmed as she shook her head, "No, it's fine. I'm glad Zingo and I could help."

Lorna raised an eyebrow, no doubt noticing the blush. "Is she ready to be adopted?"

"There's couple more things we need to be sure about, but I think she'll be ready in about a week." She pulled herself away from his stare, looking down at Zingo and she could've sworn the dog was actually judging her. "What do you think, girl?"

She barked, tail wagging excitedly.

John chuckled, that same sunrise smile breaking across his face.

Clarice sucked in a sharp breath, stomach flipping and her heart lurching. She shoved down the urge to brush the dark strands of hair that had fallen out of the bun out of his face. _Damnit_, _what the hell was he doing to her? _

He looked up at the sound and something in his eyes told her he knew.

She should've been terrified that this man she barely knew could look at her and see everything so clearly, could see into her past and all the things she'd hidden from the world and not judge her for it. But she wasn't. Not in the least.

For the first time, she was fine with being seen.

"So Lorna tells me you gave her your number?"

She swallowed, glancing at woman pointedly not looking at her, "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Would you mind if I got it from her?"

"I can do you one better, soldier." Clarice managed, holding out a hand, "Your phone?"

One corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin, "Yes ma'am."


	2. Chapter 2

Here's the second chapter!

There are warnings in this chapter for mentions of past child and domestic abuse.

* * *

Clarice groaned as her alarm went off and she almost debated skipping her morning run, but the memory of John's smile and the heat of his hand in hers had her forcing the grogginess aside and changing into her running clothes.

She had to get…whatever it was out of her system before she went to work.

She couldn't afford to be distracted by a pretty face.

_Or pretty eyes or a pretty smile…_

"Damnit." She muttered, pulling her hair back into a ponytail before bending down to tie her tennis shoes. Clarice concentrated on grabbing her things and locking her apartment door before starting on her usual path.

Normally the burning muscles and loud music was enough to drown out everything, but today the tactic didn't seem to be working. She was full on sprinting through the park before the blood pounding in her ears finally succeeded, Clarice staggering to a stop near a water fountain, bent over and gasping.

A shadow fell over her and she yanked out her headphones. "Is there something I can help you-"

Lauren grinned, "You look more winded than usual."

She stood, letting out a breathy laugh, "Good morning to you too, kid."

Lauren was a freshman college student who'd just started working part-time at the shelter after having run into Clarice with Zingo on multiple occasions due to the shared jogging paths. She was currently looking at Clarice with a curious expression, "Where's Zingo?"

"There's someone looking to adopt, she's at their place right now."

"_Now? _At six thirty in the morning?"

She took a drink from the fountain, "I brought her over last night."

Lauren narrowed her eyes, "There's something you're not telling me."

"They're bringing her back in at opening since you're feeling nosy."

"I'm curious, not nosy."

"Same thing." Clarice smiled, "I gotta go back and shower so I'll see you there?"

"Of course."

She sighed, watching the girl jog away and cursing her perceptiveness. There was no doubt she would pick up on whatever Clarice was trying very adamantly to ignore and decide to take matters into her own hands, but she couldn't worry about that now.

She jogged back to her apartment, taking a quick shower and trying not to think too much about how selective she was of her outfit for the morning because if she did she might just bang her head against the nearest wall at the stupidity of it all.

With an irritated sigh directed at herself, she settled on her usual outfit of cutoff shorts, tank top, and old flannel as working at a dog shelter didn't really go with any planned outfits anyways. Grabbing her things, she locked the apartment behind her and began her walk.

Lauren was waiting at the front door, leaning back against the brick. "Morning."

Clarice smiled, unlocking the front door and holding it open.

The girl immediately went to work, booting up the computer at the front desk as well as reorganizing the supplies while Clarice went to the back and began the process of getting the dogs their food and water for the day.

The routine was familiar and required her to think on the different behaviors needed to approach each of the dogs instead whatever the hell had happened last night. She could almost convince herself it was a dream if it wasn't for Zingo's absence.

She smiled as one of the newer puppies, Max, ran around her in unrelenting circles, barking and yipping as she went to fill his bowl. Clarice crouched down, pouring the dry food and outright laughed as he nearly tripped over his feet to get to it. "Whoa, _easy_ there champ."

"Clarice?"

She glanced over her shoulder at Lauren's voice, "Yeah?"

"There's a man here with Zingo, says he wants to talk to you."

Clarice swallowed, hoping the forced smile was believable, "I'll be out in a minute."

Lauren nodded before returning to the front.

Max whined at the loss of attention.

She looked down at the small ball of fur, "You wanna go meet some people?"

Max practically flew up and began running again, jumped up on the chain-link fence of the kennel, bouncing off of it over and over again. He looked over at her with excitement in those big brown eyes, tail wagging back and forth.

"Alright, let's go." She opened the kennel door. "Come on!"

Max bounded out, Zingo's familiar bark sounding as well as another, more gut-clenching one reached her ears. _That damn laugh. _Was there anything this man did that didn't make her feel like some love-struck teenager?

He met her eyes when she came out, a small smile pulling at his lips, "Good morning."

She returned the gesture, keep a foot of space between them, "I see you've met Max."

"Yes, I have." His smile widened as he looked down at the dogs, Max playfully biting at Zingo's feet. He seemed more at ease than the night before, but the eyes snapping to the front window as motorcycle roared past told her something else entirely.

Clarice made no comment on it, "How was Zingo last night after I left?"

John leaned back against the front desk, folding his arms across his chest, "She was good."

It took way too much effort not to look down as cotton stretched over muscle, Clarice keeping her eyes firmly on the two dogs while simultaneously ignoring the two pinpoints of heat boring into the side of her head, "And you? How are your hands?"

"Fine. As I told you last night."

She couldn't help but smile at his mild exasperation, "Lorna already asked you?"

John snorted, but said nothing.

"You know, she asked because she cares."

"No, it's because she's the nosy sister I never asked for."

Lily's face flashed through her mind for just a split second, the bright brown eyes and soft smile forever frozen at fifteen. The image of the girl caused a bittersweet pang and she found her hand drifting to her side, "Do we ever ask for them?"

His silence seemed pensive, but the bell above the door rang before he could speak.

Clarice turned right as the girl barreled into her, smile widening into a grin, "Hey, kid!"

Norah failed to dodge Clarice's hand as she ruffled the blonde hair streaked with blue and pouted as she tried to fix her mussed hair, grumbling under her breath, "I'm not a kid. I just turned fourteen last month."

"_I _know that, but you'll always be a kid to me." She smiled as Norah pulled away, finally registering the familiar gaze of one Denise Harbinger, or as she insisted everyone call her, Mama D still wearing her scrubs. She wasn't really surprised to see her foster mother in the shelter after her second double shift of the week nor the bone-crushing hug she was then pulled into. "Hey, Mama D."

"How have you been, sweetheart?"

Clarice nearly sighed, "Since yesterday when you asked me? I'm _good_, Mama."

She hummed, glancing over her shoulder before turning to her with almost a chastising note in her tone. "Well, aren't you going to introduce me to your _friend_?"

She was sure her face went bright red, not liking the honey dripping from the word. The last thing she needed on top of everything else was Mama D butting in and yet, she found herself automatically moving back as John stepped forward.

The haunted shadows that had seemed to cling him whenever she'd looked at him were nowhere in his expression, like they'd never been there to begin with. His dark eyes were warm and his smile easy as he held out a steady hand, standing tall and completely at ease, unconcerned about an ER nurse seeing his bandaged knuckles, "John Proudstar, ma'am."

She raised a brow at the _ma'am_, shaking the proffered hand without commenting on the bandages. Mama D had wrapped Clarice's own hands enough times to know exactly what had caused his injuries, "Call me Mama D. I haven't seen you around these parts before, Mr. Proudstar."

"It's just John, ma'am." His smile didn't waver, "Just moved here a month ago."

Mama D's eyes lingered on the dog tags but she again said nothing, although something in her demeanor shifted…softened as she laughed lightly and her smile was almost motherly as she spoke, "Enough with the ma'am, darlin'…makes me feel old. Just call me Mama D. Everyone else does."

He glanced at Clarice who just shook her head.

There was no arguing with Mama D.

"What do your tattoos mean?"

He blinked, looking like he'd forgotten there were two teenage girls there as well.

She could've strangled Lauren at how smug she looked at Clarice's response to Norah's innocent enough question, failing to keep her eyes drifting to the dark ink peaking from underneath the tight sleeves of his tee shirt and wondering how she'd missed them before…

He pulled up the sleeve on his left arm, crouching down so she could see it better. "_Semper Fi… _Short for _Semper Fidelis_. It's Latin for 'always faithful'."

She mouthed the words silently. "Semper Fi…isn't that something to do with soldiers?"

"Yeah." He pulled the sleeve down, "Marines, specifically."

"So you're a Marine?"

Something flashed in his eyes, but his smile remained the same, "Yeah, I am."

Norah, perceptive as she was, saw it and didn't push any more questions about it. She motioned to his other arm, switching the subject, "What about the other one? Is it a bird?"

His smile turned sad, "It's a Thunderbird, a powerful spirit among the Native Americans."

Clarice looked closer at the tattoo and thick tribal design, eyes flitting the beautiful beaded bracelets on his wrists and the angular lines of his face. She'd gathered that he himself was Native American, but there had to be more to that tattoo than just pride of his people. He wouldn't look so sad otherwise…

"Cool." Norah smiled, "Clarice has tattoos too!"

Lauren covered her laughter poorly.

_Now she wanted to strangle both of them._

"Oh?" John turned a curious look on her. "Does she?"

She opened her mouth, closed it, the words not coming out as her face flushed and Clarice could've sworn his eyes were taking in her bare skin, trying to find evidence of the ink and she was nervous, even though she knew she shouldn't be.

There was a reason she kept hers hidden from others because no one asked about things they couldn't see and while Clarice wasn't half-bad at skirting the truth, she would never be able to lie about Lily. She couldn't.

"_The Court will now call Clarice Fong to the stand."_

The shrill ring of a cell phone pulled her from the thoughts from that horrible trip down memory lane and she watched as John's attention shifted from her as he pulled the phone from his pocket, "Hello?"

Clarice let out a long breath, tugging at the hem of her tank top.

"Yeah…no I'm still coming." He sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. "Tell Lorna I'm on my way, alright? I'll see you soon." He turned back to the group, "Well, it was a pleasure to meet you Mama D. Norah. Lauren." he smiled, looking over at Clarice, "See you later then?"

She nodded, throat suddenly dry as she returned a hesitant smile, "Yeah."

He ruffled Zingo's ears before finally leaving the shelter.

"So, what's goin' on there?" Mama D asked, "New friend?"

Clarice pursed her lips as Lauren and Norah bailed, going over to play with Zingo and Max. She leaned back against the counter, "He and his friend Lorna came into the shelter a little over a week ago. They were looking for…Lorna was looking for an emotional support dog I think. She was worried about him."

"PTSD?"

"Looks like it." She motioned to Zingo, "She seems to help him, though."

Mama D hummed.

Clarice sighed, "What?"

She looked at Clarice knowingly, "Don't think I didn't see your handiwork on his hands."

She looked over at Mama D, wondering if a sarcastic response would be more trouble than it was worth. Clarice knew the woman had already figured _something _out about the events of the night before, but she didn't look concerned by the thought of John bloodying his fists which was odd considering how protective she'd always been of Clarice after everything…

"I'm glad you're helping him out…he seems like the private type."

"What makes you say that?"

"I know the type." She smiled at Clarice before turning away, "Come on, Norah, let's go."

Clarice watched them leave, letting out a long, shuddering breath the door swung shut and the familiar warmth of Zingo pressed against her leg. She wondered what expression was on her face for Lauren to look so concerned.

"Hey, you alright?"

She lightly pushed Zingo away, "Yeah, I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure…just tired is all. Had a long night."

"Does that long night have anything to do with the handsome John Proudstar?"

She shot the girl a look, but Lauren wasn't dissuaded.

"What? I'm not saying you guys _did _anything, but something happened right? That's why he had Zingo." Her eyes ran over her face, "And the way you two look at each other…"

She blinked, "…wait what?"

"You didn't notice?"

She opened her mouth and closed it, recalling the intensity of his stare. It hard _not_ to notice when those eyes were on her and Clarice recalled the moment they'd first met, how easily she'd been pulled in by them. She pursed her lips, shaking her head.

"Well, that's a bald-faced lie, but I'll let it slide."

Clarice smiled, "Oh, _you'll_ let it slide?"

"Yep." She grinned, "Because I know you'll tell me eventually."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because we're friends." Lauren's smile didn't falter. "That's why."

Her stomach twisted at the words, remembering that last girl who'd promised to be her friend no matter what happened, whose soft brown eyes and warm smile were so much like Lauren's despite all she'd witnessed…

_They both jumped as the familiar sound of fist striking flesh could be heard, followed by a pained scream as Elijah's second strike sent his wife to the ground. The woman sobbed as he struck twice more before his heavy footfall reached the stairs._

_Looked like this would be one of his bad nights._

_The bruises hadn't even started to fade from the last one…_

"_I have to get to them, Clarice. You know what he'll do to them."_

"_What…Lily! What about what he'll do to you?"_

"_It's just down the hall, okay? I'm going to go in and lock the door behind me."_

"_He's halfway up the stairs. It's too dangerous. The kids will lock the door."_

"_What if they're asleep?" She shook her head, "I can't leave them-"_

"_Lily, wait!" _

"Clarice?"

She blinked, coming back to the present, "Hmm?"

"You alright? You looked lost in thought."

"It's nothing, you just…reminded me of someone for a second."

"Oh?" She picked up Max, giggling as he squirmed as he licked her cheek, "Who?"

"An old friend."


	3. Chapter 3

Here's Chapter 3! After that angsty one-shot I posted, here is some much-needed fluff.

* * *

Clarice was just about to lock up for the night when her phone pinged with a message and she paused by the door to pull it out and turn on the screen. Butterflies erupted in her stomach when she saw who the sender was and she slid her finger over the screen to see the entire message.

_You have any plans for tomorrow morning? _

_I'm opening the dog shelter at 7:00, but I usually go on a run before that so I won't have time to really do anything. Maybe after closing?_

She wasn't stalling on being alone with him. She was just too busy.

Clarice repeated those lines over and over again as she slipped the phone back in her pocket, calling Zingo to her side as she turned off the lights and locked the door. She couldn't help but think of what Lauren and Mama D had observed about them in such a short time.

"_And the way you two look at each other…"_

"_I'm glad you're helping him out…he seems like the private type."_

"_What makes you say that?"_

"_I know the type."_

For such private people, they were shit at keeping their masks in place around each other like they did with almost everyone else. It was like something in them knew that all the masks in the world would be rendered useless the second they were alone.

The thought momentarily terrified her.

For over a decade, she hid the pain of that tragedy behind her sharp tongue and crooked grins, the time only strengthening the walls she'd built around the hole in her chest where Lily used to reside and for someone she barely knew to tear them down without a fight…

She should be running away from John Proudstar before he saw how damaged she was, before he looked at her like all the police officers and paramedics had when they found her sobbing over Lily's broken body because if he ever looked at her like that…

_Ding. _

She opened the message.

_Would you be opposed to a running partner?_

Clarice blinked, reading the message over and over again. A very small part of her was saying no, wanting to put distance between them before anything _more _could happen. That small whispering voice, though, was being drowned out by the images of John jogging alongside her, dark hair pulled off his face and brown skin glistening with sweat, teeth gleaming white in the sun…

She just barely stopped herself from running into the lamp post and Clarice braced herself on the cold metal before she fell off the curb. Wow, he wasn't even near her and she was acting like a complete idiot.

Zingo just cocked her head to the side.

Even the freaking dog was judging her.

Clarice sighed, running a hand down her face, "Ah, screw it."

_Think you can keep up?_

She didn't have to wait long for his response.

_I guess we'll see about that. Your place at six?_

She sent him her address before she could second guess herself, followed by_ It's a date _and despite the worry and fear turning her stomach into a mess of knots, Clarice couldn't stop smiling as she walked back to her apartment.

…

She woke before her alarm, a rare occurrence, but not at all surprising considering how keyed up she was. Hell, Clarice was amazed she'd gotten any sleep at all. _Maybe the run would be a good thing…_

Clarice had already put on her running capris and sports bra, a tank top half pulled over her head when she heard a knock. _Shit_. She stumbled blindly for a moment as she tugged her head through and grabbed her shoes off the floor, "I'll be out in a second!"

Glad that the mess of her apartment was confined to her room, she unlocked the door and turned to pull her hair up as it opened behind her. She then sat down on the couch to tie her shoes and it gave her a moment to compose her thoughts before she finally stood and faced him.

He was examining the framed pictures on the wall, his back to her and a small part of Clarice was torn. She was touched at the show of trust, but that small, cynical part of her wondered if she even registered as a threat to him, real or imaginary…

But even that worrying thought was quickly overshadowed by the fact that she couldn't tear her eyes away from him. She could see every muscle that shifted underneath his skin, her fingers itching the traced the dark lines of ink that moved with each flex of his arm.

"How long were you with Mama D?"

Clarice blinked, once again focusing on the picture he was looking at instead of him. She came over to his side, mindful to keep some space between them, but she could still feel the heat of him. She shook her head, "I was uh…fourteen when I first got there. She officially adopted me when I turned sixteen."

"She seems like an amazing woman."

Clarice smiled, "That she is."

His eyes were on her for a long moment, like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Instead, he smiled, fingers hovering over a young, smirking Clarice. "I'll bet you were quite the handful as a teenager."

"Isn't _every _teenager a handful?"

He chuckled, "Fair point."

Zingo chose that moment to come out of her bedroom, licking John's hand and barking when he smiled down at her. She noticed Clarice's outfit and got even more excited, the dog already eager to run as she wove between their legs.

She grinned as she tightened her ponytail, grabbing her phone, "You ready to go?"

He walked over to the door, holding it open, "After you."

She locked the door and they walked down the stairs in silence, Clarice stalwartly avoiding looking at him as they reached the sidewalk and she stretched out her legs, ignoring the heat of his gaze as she did. God, the run could _not_ have come soon enough. "You ready, Soldier Boy?"

He held out a hand, "Ready when you are."

She looked over her shoulder at him, grinning before taking off down the block. Clarice could hear his laughter and Zingo's barking closing in behind her and while she knew she'd never outrun a freaking _Marine_, but hearing that sound…

It was better than any music.

She cut across the side streets and into the park, unsurprised as he passed her with Zingo on his heels. Even as her legs and lungs burned, she refused to slow down. She may have started something she could never win, but she'd be damned if she stopped because of it.

Clarice staggered to a stop by the water fountain once more, putting her hands on her head, trying to pull in air and cursing herself for pushing herself so hard the day before. She was going to be so sore in the morning…

John, the bastard, barely looked out of breath as he looked at her, "You alright?"

"Just…" she swallowed, "Just give me a second."

He shook his head with a wide, dimpled smile, dark hair falling in his eyes.

If she hadn't already been gasping for air, the sight alone would've left her breathless and she turned before he noticed her ogling him. She bent to grab a drink, splashing the cold water on her face and snap her out of it, but then she lifted her head and she could've sworn his eyes followed the droplets of moisture down her neck before Zingo grabbed his attention…

_God, she was so fucking screwed._

"Hey, Clarice!" Lauren came bouncing over to them, "Hey, John!"

"Good morning, Lauren." He inclined his head.

"You are way too happy this early in the morning," Clarice grumbled.

"You always say that." The girl laughed, shooting Clarice a smile before turning to John.

She lowered herself onto the ground as the two of them talked, Clarice pushing their conversation aside as she laid down on the cool grass and closed her eyes. She was almost glad for the girl's presence as spending too much alone time with John was proving hazardous for her state of mind.

Zingo laid her head on her stomach, her hand automatically going to pet her.

Clarice tried to remember the last time she'd ever been this…interested in another person, but she was drawing a blank. Anything resembling a relationship was practically impossible in high school and she spent most of college trying to forget about high school and even now…

The man had only been back for a month and he clearly had his own things to deal with, the bandages on his hands and the memory of broken glass on linoleum cold reminders that there were parts of him so shrouded in darkness that he hid them from everyone.

Clarice knew better than most just how much someone could bury behind a smile.

_No matter how beautiful it was…_

She hadn't been aware of how much time had passed before a shadow fell over her and she opened her eyes to find John leaning over her. Clarice blinked, startled at his closeness, and realized he'd been calling her name. "Hmm?"

"Don't you have a business to open soon?"

_Shit! _She scrambled to her feet, "What time is it?"

"It's six thirty and..." He caught her as she stumbled, "Whoa, _relax_, you're good."

Clarice felt the heat of his hand through her tank top like wasn't even there and put space between them before she did something stupid like lean into it. She gave him a small smile, hoping he wasn't hurt by the clear avoidance.

He just shook his head, "I let you and Zingo go, alright?"

"Yeah, come on girl."

"Same time tomorrow morning?"

"Sure, sounds great!" She internally winced at the obvious enthusiasm.

He chuckled, "Then I'll you see you tomorrow."

Clarice nodded, watching him leave for a lot longer than she should before walking towards her own apartment with Zingo at her side, spinning her phone around and around her hands as she played the last half hour over in her head.

She fumbled with the spare key, unlocking the door before tucking it back under the welcome mat. She stripped off her sweaty workout clothes and turned the water as cold as it could go, but even that couldn't erase the lingering warmth his touch had left.

The shower was quick and she was dressed and out the door in record time.

Zingo noticed her subdued behavior and kept herself close during the entire walk over and throughout the day and she could see Lauren hovering on the edges. Clarice was glad the girl kept the other customers that came through from noticing anything amiss like she had and Clarice wondered when everyone around had gotten so damn perceptive.

"Clarice?"

She looked over from the computer screen, "What is it?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Really? Cause you just typed a whole page of _f_s." Lauren looked at the blinking cursor with a worried frown before going and flipping the _"Open"_ sign to "_Closed"_ with an hour still left to lock-up. "What's going on Clarice? Did something happen with John today?"

"No, nothing really happened but…"

"You wanted it to."

Clarice exited out of the document, "Lauren..."

"Don't tell me you're fine. You've been distracted all day and I'm worried." She leaned back against the counter, "Just tell me what happened, Clarice. I'm not going to say anything to anyone I swear-"

She shook her head, "It's not that."

Lauren pursed her lips, voice soft, "Then what is it?"

She opened her mouth, closed it, "I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

Clarice sat back with a sigh, "Since when are you the adult here?"

"Since I can actually talk to the guy without making heart eyes at him." Lauren lifted herself up onto the counter, laughing as Clarice sputtered. "I mean, when I showed up, you looked seconds from jumping the poor man…not that I blame you."

She raised a brow, "I thought you had a girlfriend."

"I do," Lauren swung her legs back and forth, "but I can appreciate an attractive man."

Clarice almost smiled at how easily and happily she agreed with the statement, considering her reluctance with even admitting she liked girls a couple of months ago. She huffed out a breath, "That's one word for him."

She grinned, "So you _did_ want something to happen."

"If I say yes, will you stop asking?"

Lauren shrugged.

Clarice let out a long breath, "Okay, fine. So maybe I wanted to kiss him, but…I can't." She stood, "I mean…he literally just got back from an actual war zone and…he's dealing with his own stuff and I don't want to rush into anything."

"Have you ever thought that maybe he wants to kiss you too?"

She snorted.

"Oh, don't do that!" she hopped up off the counter, "You are beautiful and funny and he would have to be blind not to see that, which _I _think he does. Despite what he's gone through or is currently going through, he does seem to want something too."

"I've known the man for two weeks, Lauren."

"The morning runs were his idea weren't they?"

"_Lauren_…"

"Okay, okay I'll stop…for now." Lauren walked over and flipped the sign back over, "But just so you know, you can always talk to me about…everything."

"Does that mean I can finally meet Christina?"

Something in her demeanor shifted, dimmed, "We're talking about her coming down for my birthday in two weeks." She watched the people passing through the windows, "I'm thinking about finally telling my parents."

"Really?" Clarice leaned forward, "You sure?"

Lauren smiled nervously and nodded, "I actually talked to Andy about it last night."

"And what did he say?"

She laughed, "He uh…" her eyes filled with tears as a beautiful, relieved smile broke across her face, "he told me he already knew and that he would always support me. He even offered to help me tell Mom and Dad."

"Well, so do I." Clarice wrapped her arms around the girl, squeezing her as tightly as she could. She remembered the day she'd accidentally come out to Clarice and the near tailspin she'd prevented, "You know that right? I'm always here for you."

"I know and I'll never be able to thank you enough for that."

Clarice stepped away, "Let's finish locking up alright?"

She dried her eyes, "Yeah, okay."


	4. Chapter 4

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Here's chapter 4 for you guys. This one will be from John's POV so there are warnings in effects for **PTSD, flashbacks, hallucinations, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, and suicidal thoughts**. It's a pretty heavy chapter, but let me know what you guys think!

* * *

Lorna poked his side with a bare foot, "So, you kissed her yet?"

John looked over Lorna's shoulder where Marcos was not so discreetly listened to them as he cooked their dinner. He sighed with a small smile, lightly nudging her leg away. "You two are _way_ too invested in my love life."

Lorna hummed, "You didn't answer my question."

John sighed, "We've only been talking a couple of days."

"And?"

"I can't get to know a person before I kiss them?"

"That's not it, though. Is it?" Her expression turned serious, eyes narrowing as she looked over him like she had the moment he'd stepped off the tarmac. She'd always been able to look through him in a way very few ever could. "You don't want to get to know her."

John flinched at the matter-of-fact tone. "Lorna…"

"Because if you don't know her, she won't know you…and you won't hurt her."

He knew better than to lie to the woman, "No…and she's been hurt enough."

Lorna didn't even blink, "And what makes you think you are capable of hurting anyone?"

The tattoo on his right arm _burned_ and John swallowed, saying nothing as he dropped his hands and went to stand. He wasn't surprised when she caught his wrist and kept him from moving nor the nails that dug into his skin, "Lorna…"

"No," She cut him off, "I want you to listen to me, John Proudstar. We both love you, you know that." Her voice sharpened, strengthened, "No matter what happened in Afghanistan, that's not going to change. You're worthy of that love, John, and of being loved in return."

He pulled his hand away, throat suddenly tight. "I'll be a burden to her…like I am to you."

"You are not a burden John and you never will be."

His laugh was hollow, "I've been crashing at your place more than mine since I've been back."

Marcos moved the pot to an unused burner, "John…"

"No." He knew the coldness in his tone was unwarranted, but he almost couldn't be bothered to care how it sounded or what they thought, not with the beginnings of a headache starting to drain his reserves, "Don't tell me it's alright because it's not. You just got married. You can't be focused on me."

Marcos frowned, "John, that's not true."

Lorna got to her feet, "We just want to help-"

"Stop trying to fix me!" He snapped at her, the headache building behind his eyes. The dim thought of _just breathe _was faint and distant, their concern only adding gasoline to his building anger. If he wasn't careful, that headache could easily transition into a migraine and then he would really snap.

And he never wanted them to see that side of him.

Now Marcos was angry, "John!"

He squeezed his eyes shut, his raised voice grated on his ears.

Lorna's voice was softer, "John, are you alright?"

He let out a long breath, using whatever energy he had left to unclench his jaw and calm down. He opened his eyes and sat down, pinching the bridge of his nose at the naked worry and concern he'd been trying to prevent on their faces, "Shit, you guys. I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you like that."

"I know you didn't…You sure you're alright?"

"It's just a headache. All I need to some sleep."

"Did you want any food before you go?"

John shook his head, the thought of food in combination with the headache making him nauseous. He stood, forcing himself not to wince as he straightened and grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch. "I'm good."

Lorna frowned, "Are you sure?"

"I'm always sure. I'll see you guys in the morning." He gave them a tired smile before he grabbed his helmet and left the apartment, letting the mask fall as he stepped out into the cool night air. John groaned as the street lamp flickered, tightening his jaw as the pain stabbed into his eyes.

The drive was not as painful as he expected it would be, even with every street lamp he passed under sending a stab of pain through his head that had him grinding his teeth and gripping the handlebars with white knuckles.

Thankfully, it only took five minutes to get back to his apartment (only running one stop sign in the process), the headache threatening to blow into a migraine as he threw down the kickstand and yanked off the helmet before jogging up the stairs.

He fumbled the key in the lock.

The apartment was blissfully dark as he threw his jacket, helmet, and keys onto the couch, John stumbling to the bathroom. He braced himself as he flicked on the light, grabbing the pill bottle and dumping two pills into his palm.

He swallowed them dry and turned off the lights, kicking off his boots and plugging his phone in on the nightstand. John collapsed onto the bed and he let out an audible sigh as the pain became distant, a pleasant fog falling over him and making it much easier to finally fall asleep.

…

"_John! John help me, please!"_

_BANG!_

His eyes snapped open, his body automatically rolling off the bed and pressing itself back into the corner of the room before he realized the gunshot had only been in his head and he was sent crashing back to reality. His head and lower back both throbbed with a vengeance and he wanted nothing more than to just curl up on the floor and-

_Ding. _

John forced himself upright, unplugging the phone and flipping it over.

_We still on for today?_

He closed his eyes. _Clarice. _

_How could he have forgotten? _

John looked at the time, debating if his body was even up for the run.

It would be so easy to text back with a _not feeling well _or even just not responding at all, but then he remembered the grin she'd given him over her shoulder before she'd sprinted away and the glimmer of sunlight in the droplets of water that had trailed down her neck…

_Sorry, running a little late. I'll meet you by the steps in ten._

_Okay. See you soon!_

He ran a hand over his face before walking rigidly to the bathroom and swallowing two more pills. John changed into his running clothes, tying his shoes and slipping his phone into the armband before grabbing the keys off the couch.

The meds kicked in as he started jogging, making the smile he gave the waiting Clarice completely unforced and as he crouched down to ruffle Zingo's ears and he couldn't help but notice her own wandering eyes as he straightened… "Down for another race?"

She laughed, "That's cute, Soldier Boy, but I know when to bow out."

"Just another jog then?"

"Just another jog sounds perfect." Her lips curled into a crooked grin, "Ready to go?"

He hummed, "Ready when you are."

With a grin reminiscent of yesterday's, she began a steady pace down the same path as before and he was sorely tempted to stay behind her and watch her ponytail swing back and forth, the violet strands reflecting the light and…

_So it's not how she fills out the leggings?_

The voice sounded eerily like Lorna and he ignored it as he came alongside her, adamantly looking ahead instead of down. The steady sound of their footfall on the sidewalk was a comfort he hadn't realized he'd missed.

The last time he'd had a running partner hadn't been since-

_No. _

Yet the image of golden hair and electric blue eyes wouldn't leave him be, very nearly knocking the air out of him and sending him staggering. He brushed off Clarice's concern with an easy smile, "I'm fine."

She ran her eyes over him but said nothing even when John knew she probably wanted to. It was the look he'd seen on her before, the night she'd wrapped his hands coming back in remarkable clarity and he looked down at his bruised, scabbed over knuckles and remembered the old scars on hers.

"_So who protected you from the adults?"_

_Her green eyes flashed, "I protected myself."_

The sound of approaching wheels cut into the recollection-

_BANG!_

_Pop! Pop! Pop!_

"_Ambush!"_

"_Everybody GET DOWN!" _

His body moved before his brain could pull itself from the memory, shielding her from a danger that had never been there to begin with. He rolled off of her almost instantly, but not before he caught the flicker of something (fear…it had to be fear) in those green eyes and saw the bright red trailing down her arm-

"_I'm hit, John! I'm hit!"_

"John? Hey, you're alright. It's okay-"

He swallowed, shaking his head, "You're bleeding."

"It's nothing, John. I'm fine."

But he was already pressing down-

_-on the hole in his stomach, the pained groan cutting through him like the shrapnel currently embedded in his skin and his throat tightened, "I'm right here, Gus. Just look at me, alright?"_

_He coughed, blood bubbling from his lips and seeping through John's fingers, "John…"_

"_Let me see those beautiful eyes of yours."_

"John, just breathe alright?"

_Gus grinned, teeth stained red, "You…" he coughed, eyes rolling back, "You're such a flirt." _

"_Stay with me, love…just stay with me."_

"_You love me?"_

_He couldn't help but smile, even as the tears spilled over, "You know I do."_

"_Can you…" he coughed again, a horrible broken sound, "…say it…please?"_

_The fear in his voice hit him like a battering ram to the chest and they both knew Gus was dying. The man he loved was dying in his arms in the middle of this godforsaken desert and there was nothing he could do but hold him…hold him and reassure him…_

"_I love you__."__ He took his hand and squeezed as tightly as he could to selfishly keep him there in the present…with him for just a little bit longer. He ignored the sickening squelching sound of the blood__ between their fingers, "I love you so much."_

"_I…I love you too." _

_John couldn't take his eyes off of him, not until the light left him with one last breath and he felt something in him break apart and blow away into the desert as he rested his forehead over a heart that would never beat again and wept._

"John, look at me!"

He scrambled back from her touch, breathing ragged and hands red with-

_-Gus' blood._

"_I'm right here, Gus. Just look at me, alright?"_

John blinked when Zingo rested her head on his hip and he closed his eyes, taking one deep breath, two, three…one hand running back and forth through the soft fur with each breath while the other dug into the wet grass and cool mud, so much different than the hot, burning sand…

John wasn't sure how much time had passed before he opened his eyes again.

Clarice sat cross-legged in the grass in front of him, watching him with worry clear in her green eyes while she held a hand over the still bleeding cut on her arm. She wet her lips, "You back with me?"

Swallowing thickly, he nodded.

"Alright." She pushed herself up with a small wince, wiping her hands off on her running capris before holding them out, "Come on."

He eyed them for only a moment before taking them.

With surprising strength, she helped him to stand.

"I'm sorry about your arm." He said as soon as he had his bearings, "I didn't mean to-"

She smiled at him, "You're alright. Accidents happen."

He blinked, almost shocked at the apology.

She shouldn't be smiling at him…shouldn't be _apologizing_ to him. She should be terrified of him…angry that he couldn't seem to separate nightmare from reality and embarrassed that he'd caused such a scene in public.

"I should be going."

She frowned, "John-"

"I'll see you later."

She grabbed his wrist, "John-"

"_Can you…" he coughed again, a horrible broken sound, "…say it…please?"_

He went rigid, "Let me go, Clarice. Please."

She must've heard something in his voice because she did just that and made no more moves to stop him as he strode away, but the heat her gaze followed him all the way back to his apartment and into the shower, lingering long after the water had grown cold.

He wanted to go to sleep as the whole incident had completely drained him of energy. His head was already beginning to throb with the makings of a horrible migraine and as he swallowed two more pills, he didn't care that it was still light outside.

He needed to sleep for just a little longer…

…

_John looked up from where he sat at the end of the bed._

_Gus stood in the bedroom doorway with his arms folded across his chest, looking so damn breathtaking in nothing more than a t-shirt and sweatpants, looking at him with those brilliant blue eyes like there was nothing else in the world, "Hey, babe."_

_He stood up with a smile, "Good morning, love."_

_Gus' eyes shone as he tugged on the waistband of his shorts, "Yes it is."_

_John met him halfway, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into a long, deep kiss that had them both groaning and stumbling back in the direction of the bed. He pulled away just long enough to remove Gus' shirt, his head falling back as teeth grazed the length of his throat._

_Gus' lips curled against his skin as John's hold turned bruising, one hand threading through dark hair while another moved down his back. He spun them around, his laughter as John pinned him to the mattress breaking apart with a moan as he pressed himself fully against him._

_John sealed his mouth over Gus' pulse, whose hips snapped up with a gasp. _

"_You're such a tease, you know that?"_

_He pushed himself up, the sight of his flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips nearly undoing him on the spot. John let go of Gus' wrists, fingers tracing the lines of muscles in his forearms and biceps reverently as his lips moved to his ear and grinned__._

"_John…"_

_He lifted his head and went completely rigid_

_All that sun-kissed skin was now deathly pale, blood pouring from the gaping wound in his stomach and quickly turning the white sheets scarlet. Gus tried to speak, but the only thing coming out his mouth was blood. He was choking on it. Drowning in it._

"_Stay with me, love…" he pressed down, "please, just stay with me."_

_But there was nothing behind those eyes._

_He was already gone._

He woke up gasping, stumbling into the bathroom, falling to his knees as he emptied the meager contents of his stomach into the toilet. He forced himself upright, bending over the sink to splash cold water on his face when the sunlight caught off blonde hair.

John's head snapped up, fingers curling around the edges of the sink as he looked into the mirror and saw Gus leaning against the doorframe like he'd just stepped out his dream-turned-nightmare. He shuddered, turning away, "No…"

"Babe, what's wrong?"

He shook his head, "You're not here."

"What're you talking about?" Warm breath brushed his neck, "I'm right here."

"_I'm right here, Gus. Just look at me, alright?"_

The lump in John's throat grew as he choked out, "You aren't real."

"John…"

"_Can you…say it…please?"_

"Shut up!"

He hadn't even registered he'd moved until he pulled his hand from the mirror, glass and blood distorting the one clear water, but at least Gus was gone... He stared down at his knuckles and he uncurled his fingers, the pain drowned out by the sight of his own blood. He couldn't see anything except for the red. All that red…

"_I'm right here, Gus. Just look at me, alright?"_

"_You're alright. Accidents happen."_

He let out a choked sound and fell to his knees, the agony ripped through his chest as the memories and the nightmares and cacophony of screams washed over him like a tsunami. He was sinking further and further into the darkest parts his mind, suffocating under the weight of it all.

No matter how hard he tried to pull himself out, to reach for the light, he couldn't because there was nothing to grab onto. There was no one there to ground him because everything he touched turned to ash.

Leaving him alone, trapped in his own hell.

Maybe it was what he deserved.

* * *

I'm currently on Spring Break, so I will try to have the next chapter posted by Friday or Saturday at the latest!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5! We're back to Clarice's POV. Nothing too big happens in this chapter but I hope you all enjoy! Let me know what you all think!

* * *

Clarice stared down at her dinner, absently pushing the food around her plate.

She knew she should be paying attention to the conversations going on at the table, to Norah's story about a girl at school giving her a hard time about her dyed hair or Mama D's response of _you're beautiful, sugar _and _she's just jealous she can't pull it off like you can_, but she couldn't get the image of John's distant stare when he looked right through her out of her mind…

Hell, she'd be surprised if she could ever forget what had happened this morning…

What _had _happened?

Clarice knew he was on edge and had picked up on loud noises and crowds being an issue since she'd met him, even though he'd never once said anything to her (or anyone), and she'd thought the early morning run would be mostly free of those triggers.

Then a passing car had backfired.

She'd barely registered what the sound had actually been before he'd pinned her to the ground, shielding her from the perceived threat. Clarice _knew _he wasn't going to hurt her, but she couldn't stop herself from shrinking away from the sudden weight on top of her and the pain that sliced across her arm as her body hit the ground _hard_.

He'd scrambled off of her before old memories had a chance to reform, but he must've seen something when he'd looked at her because all the color drained from his face as he took her bleeding arm in gentle, shaking hands.

Her skinned arm throbbed at the reminder of his touch, but she recalled the exact moment he'd been yanked somewhere else entirely and how he'd rolled onto his knees and gone completely still if not for his ragged, uneven breathing…

"You feelin' okay there, sweetheart?"

"Hmm?" She looked up to find Mama D watching her with worried eyes. Clarice shook her head, trying to focus herself on the here and now as she set down her fork and took a drink of water, "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

The woman pursed her lips.

"It's just been a long day, Mama."

"Anything to do with whatever injury you're trying to hide from me?"

_Why did I even bother? _Clarice pulled up the sleeve of her shirt, letting her look at the large adhesive Band-Aid on her forearm. "I fell during my run this morning, scraped it up on the sidewalk." Something she'd learned from a childhood spent in foster care: half-truths are better than flat out lies. "Didn't want to worry you."

While Mama D knew about some of his…issues, she felt that whatever she'd witnessed wasn't something to be shared. She ignored the small voice that told her she just didn't want to be told to stay away from him…

Mama didn't look completely placated, but she dropped the inquiries, "So how about you and that handsome soldier?"

She choked on the water she'd foolishly tried to drink, to Norah's amusement, thumping her chest as she coughed. Clarice wondered if it would be too early to excuse herself, "We're just talking is all."

"That's a shame."

She shot an incredulous look at Mama D. _This _coming from the woman who grounded her for three weeks after sneaking out to see her boyfriend. Granted, nothing had happened, but that hadn't stopped the two-hour screaming match they'd gotten into… "Wait, seriously?"

"He seems like a nice young man."

"And he's hot."

Clarice glared at Norah.

"What?" she took a bite of her chicken, "I'm not the only one thinking it."

Clarice sighed, turning back to Mama D, "Why the sudden interest in my dating life?"

"I just want you to be happy." She replied, the picture of innocent motherly concern. "It's been a long time since you were with anyone-"

Her face burned, "Oh my God-"

"And I think you would really benefit from having-"

"I get it, I get it alright? Just…stop, _please_." She dropped her head onto the table with a _thud _and a groan. At this rate, she should just stay in her apartment and become a recluse…it didn't sound that bad of an idea at the moment. "Is this why you invited me to dinner tonight, to tell me I need to get a boyfriend?"

"Or a girlfriend."

She gritted her teeth, "Not _helping_, Norah."

Mama D raised an eyebrow, "Is there a girl?"

"Oh my God, no. There's no girl and nothing with John, alright? We're just friends."

"Says no one ever." Norah grinned.

She lunged to her feet, "You know what-"

The woman only laughed, grabbing her arm as Norah ran off, "Leave her be."

Clarice wet her lips, "Look, I know you two mean well but…"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Mama put a hand on her arm and squeezed with a small smile, "I just want you to be happy is all. I always have, even if it hasn't always seemed that way…you know that, right?"

She smiled, "I know that, Mama."

"Good. Now, let's clear the table and send you home with some leftovers."

Clarice was glad that the questioning seemed to be done for the night as they cleared the table and Mama D packed up enough food for the next week before dropping her back off at her apartment building.

She trudged up the stairs, balancing the casserole dish and Tupperware in her arms and bumping the door open with her hip. She smiled as Zingo came out of her room, holding the dishes higher as she sniffed at her hands. "Uh uh, uh, this is not for you girl."

Zingo sat down in front of her, cocking her head to the side.

"Those puppy dog eyes won't work on me." She walked around her, putting the containers in the fridge and throwing her jacket over the back of the couch before kicking off her shoes and making her way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

She was towel-drying her hair five minutes later when her cell phone rang.

Frowning, Clarice hurried to her nightstand and picked up the phone without looking at the Caller ID. People didn't call at…eleven o'clock at night without good reason. She slid her thumb across the screen and raised it to her ear, "Hello?"

"Hey."

_John? _She didn't like how hoarse his voice sounded but decided it was better she not mention it. Hell, Clarice was surprised he was even talking to her considering how their last interaction had ended…yet she couldn't completely hide the concern, "Hey. What's up?"

"I just wanted to call, check and see if you were okay."

"I'm good, I told you I was alright." She put the phone on speaker so she could change into sleep shorts and camisole, taking it with her as she walked back to the bathroom. She dried off her arm before changing the Band-Aid, "How 'bout you, though? Are you alright?"

He cleared his throat, "Are you sure you're okay? It was bleeding when I-"

She _almost _called him out for completely avoiding the question, but thought better of it. Clarice just took the fact that he'd called her as a sign that he was okay enough to talk to her, "Trust me, John, it's really just a scratch."

A long pause, "Okay…"

She put the phone back to her ear, sensing there was more, "Is there something else you wanted to talk about?"

"Just that…if you don't want me to come running with you-"

"Whoa, whoa…" She sighed. "Look, I know that what happened wasn't…ideal, but that doesn't mean we have to stop hanging out. And I'm going to say this again so you can hear me. I. Am. _Alright_. I will never be scared or angry with you, okay?"

"I _hurt_ you, Clarice. You shouldn't be okay with that."

"I…" she pursed her lips, "I understand that, but it wasn't like you came out on the run with me with malicious intent. I don't know much about you, John, but I _do _know that you would never do any of that on purpose."

"Clarice…"

"Just take a few days, alright?" She hoped her statement came off as more of a suggestion rather than an order. Something told her that he wouldn't appreciate being told what to do. Clarice sat at the end of her bed, looking over as Zingo hopped on the bed. "Or don't. Either way, just don't blame yourself for what happened today, okay? I don't."

There was a rustling on the other line, "Thank you, Clarice."

"You're welcome."

"I'll talk to you later."

"You too." Was all she got out before the call ended and she was left staring down at the phone with what she was sure was a bewildered, confused expression. She wasn't entirely sure what to do with that conversation and she hoped he didn't take her suggestion as a reason to stay away for good.

Plugging in her phone, she slipped under the sheets.

Sleep came easier than she thought it would.

…

While she hadn't expected him to see her the next morning, the next two days were a little more worrying. He'd texted her during those days, one or two-word responses that kept her from flat out calling him and was tempted to talk to Lorna to see if she'd seen her friend…

"Clarice?"

She looked up from the computer to find Lauren looking at her strangely. "What?"

"What's going on with you? You've been acting really weird the last few days."

"I've just had a lot on my mind is all."

Lauren looked skeptical, but the bell above the door ringing ended the conversation.

Clarice practically lunged at the opportunity to run away from Lauren, hoping her eagerness to avoid her didn't freak out the customers, a young woman with a little boy (probably her son) would couldn't have been more than five. She smiled and held out a hand, "My name's Clarice. What are you guys looking for?"

The woman took it, "Sarah. My husband and I were looking for a dog for our son." She turned a warm smile at the boy, her voice soft, "Say hi to Clarice, Liam."

She crouched down, "Hi, Liam."

Big blue eyes peered around his mother's pant leg. "Hi."

_Shy thing_. Clarice smiled, "Do you like puppies?"

He nodded, slightly more eager than before.

Clarice stood, an idea already forming, "Hey Lauren, could you stay with them for a moment?"

"Yeah."

Clarice went around the counter and made her way back to the kennels and Max's cage, laughing at the puppy's excitement as he bounced off the fence like a pinball, "Hey there, buddy. I got someone I want you to meet."

Max barked.

"Alright, let's go." She opened the kennel door, just barely catching his collar before he ran full force into a wall. Clarice picked him up, tilting her face away from his tongue, failing to stop her giggling as she pushed open the door with her foot.

Liam's entire face lit up with a wide grin as Max was put down on the floor and it was like he was a completely different kid, squealing with laughter when Max started licking his cheek and his neck.

"I haven't seen him like this in a while."

"I've learned that animals have this…amazing ability to bring out another side to us." Clarice looked down as Zingo finally came out from under the desk the same moment the bell rang and nearly stiffened when she felt a familiar set of eyes on the back of her neck.

"You sound like you speak from experience."

"Yeah I…I guess I do." She cleared her throat, "Excuse me for a moment."

John was sitting in one of the chairs, Zingo's head on his knee, looking up as she came over.

Clarice nearly stopped at the dark, bruise-colored shadows under his eyes and glanced down to find one of his hands wrapped in thick bandages. She motioned to his hand, "What happened to you?"

"One of my father's old Marine buddies runs a gym near my apartment building…Xavier's?" He waited for her acknowledging nod before continuing, "Just went a little too hard on the heavy bag is all."

She raised a brow, "Punching things is your idea of blowing off steam?"

He shrugged, "Why? You worried about me?"

_Yes. _She couldn't…didn't want to say that. She couldn't stop playing that moment he realized what he'd done, the horrified realization shattered the panicked glaze and she couldn't help but wonder if he'd slept at all since she'd last seen him…

"Clarice!"

For the first time since she'd met John that she was happy for Lauren's interruption, breaking from his stare as she turned to the girl. She ran a hand through her hair, knowing the girl was perceptive enough not to question Clarice's concerned expression. "Yeah?"

"Sarah and Liam wanted to adopt Max..." she looked at John, "_whoa_. What happened?"

He chuckled, shaking his head, "Nothing bad. I box."

"Cool, maybe you could teach me sometime."

Clarice looked over at Lauren, "Since when are you interested in boxing?"

She shrugged, "Just wanted to try something new, gain a new skill…"

"Oh my God, you want to impress Christina!"

"What! No, it's…" she sputtered, her face turning bright red as she looked between the two of them with wide brown eyes, "You know what? I'm just going to talk to them now. Get the paperwork for Max."

"You do that." Clarice laughed, knowing she was definitely going to be paying for that later, but it had been totally worth it. Almost made up for all the times the girl had embarrassed her. "I do think she's serious about you teaching her, though."

He shifted in the chair, "I would but I think I need more time to…adjust."

"Then don't worry about it." She tried not, "I'm sure she'll find something else."

"Christina's her girlfriend?"

Clarice hadn't thought about the ramifications of her teasing. Lauren trusted very few people with her and Christina's relationship and Clarice had gone and basically blurted it out in front of someone she barely knew… "Yes, she is."

She didn't care how harshly the words came out. She didn't care how drawn she was to him. If he said anything remotely hurtful about Lauren, she would kick his ass out the door, Marine or not because Lauren deserved to be surrounded by people who cared about her, who didn't look at her differently.

He just smiled at her. "I'm not going to hurt her, Clarice. You can trust me on that."

Normally she wouldn't take any "_trust me_" at face value, but there was something about the way he'd said it that told Clarice that he'd been genuine in his reassurances. She returned the smile, "Good, now that the shovel talk's out of the way, I have a question for you."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"Does this impromptu visit mean you're down for our morning runs?"

"Sure." His smile never wavered, "Same time at your place?"

She was sure her shock was evident, but she couldn't help it.

He'd suffered a nasty flashback and had been ready to jump ship not two days ago but he almost sounded eager to spend time with her now, coming to see her at work like nothing had happened, despite the fact that he looked completely wrung out… "Uh, yeah. Same time, same place."

"Alright then, I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

The next chapter is almost finished so it should be up by Tuesday!


	6. Chapter 6

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So sorry for the lateness of this update. College has been pretty hectic lately, but here you guys go with another chapter from Clarice's POV. There are some comments made later in the chapter about the stigma of mentals disorders and stereotypes that are associated with them so trigger warning for that as well as mentions of Bipolar Disorder and PTSD. If I get anything wrong here or offend anyone then I sincerely apologize. Hope you all enjoy and as always, let me know what you think!

* * *

Clarice hated how cautiously she watched him during their run that morning, hated how that small part of her was afraid of a repeat performance despite his apparent eagerness to resume their relatively new routine. But then she remembered just how believable his mask had been when he first met Mama D and Norah, how easily he'd hidden away the things he didn't want anyone else to see…her included. It'd been jarring.

The ringing of the bell above the door broke through her thoughts.

"Clarice."

She blinked, looking up from the computer, "Glo?"

Gloria Reyes, or Glo, had been the one who'd helped her build up the shelter to what it was. She worked closely with the local ASPCA, bringing in rehabilitated animals she thought would be a good fit and she was hardly ever wrong in her choices. She'd brought in Zingo after all…

She smiled, "Hey."

Clarice stood, pulling her in for a quick hug, "How's it going?"

"It's going good. Just thought I'd come and see how you're doing."

She stepped back, glad to be talking to one of the few people in her life _not _currently concerned with her relationship status. "Not too bad. Max was just adopted yesterday and Zingo's even found a home."

"Zingo, really?" She looked down at said dog, "I thought she'd glued herself to you."

"Me too." She leaned back against the desk, almost resigning herself to the inevitable change of topic that she'd brought on. It was like she couldn't help herself… "A woman came in with her friend, a soldier who'd just gotten back last month. They both really hit it off."

"This guy must be pretty special," Glo ruffled the dog's ear, "huh girl?"

Clarice shrugged, hoping the nonchalance was believable.

"Is she back to a healthy weight?"

"Yeah. I just checked it this morning." She grabbed the chart she'd just updated, flipping to the second page before handing it to Glo, "Zingo is all cleared and ready to go." She was almost sad at the thought, having grown used to dog's quiet yet constant presence at her side.

Glo seemed to sense her sadness and tried to lighten the mood, "Is he allowing visitation rights?"

Clarice chuckled, "He couldn't stop me if he tried."

She grinned, "Well, I look forward to meeting him the next time I'm here."

"Leaving so soon?"

"Yeah, I have a meeting in…" She flipped opened her phone, setting aside the chart as she straightened, "five minutes. But I promise I'll be back again. I might even bring in some new arrivals."

"Well, I can never turn down new friends."

"I'll remember that. I'll see you around Clarice."

"See ya, Glo." She watched the woman leave, sinking down in the chair as the door shut. Absently, she tapped her keyboard, watching the gibberish fill the search bar and wondering why she couldn't seem to go five minutes without thinking about John.

"What's wrong, soldier got your tongue?"

"You know Lauren, one of these days I might actually follow through on strangling you." She closed the window, spinning around in the chair to narrow her eyes at the blonde, who seemed wholly unconcerned with the threat.

"Aw, you're blushing!"

"Go check the supply inventory for the food. I need to put the order in by the end of the day."

"Yes Ma'am." she grinned, scurrying before Clarice could lunge out of the chair.

"Someone's a bit touchy."

_Seriously? _She spun around, "Hey Lorna."

The woman raised an eyebrow, "Hey. You good?"

She stood up and pushed the chair in, running a hand through her hair, "Yeah, I'm good. What can I help you with?"

"Well…" Lorna looked down as Zingo rounded the corner, "I thought that since Zingo here was going to moving in with John, that I would get some things for them both. Kind of a surprise housewarming gift."

"Well, I do have some things back at my place I won't be using anymore…" She looked over at Lorna as she petted Zingo, "Are you really sure surprising him is a good idea? He doesn't seem the type to like surprises…"

She snorted, "God no, the man couldn't be surprised even if we tried and Marcos…" she motioned behind her at the Latino man looking at the wall containing pictures of some of the animals under their roof, "is taking him out for the day as a distraction and while I may love that man more than anything, he can't keep a secret for shit."

Clarice couldn't stop her laugh, "Oh, so we're doing this _today_?"

"Tomorrow afternoon actually. A _little bird_ mentioned you didn't have work."

She remembered an offhand comment she'd made during their run that morning about how she was glad to have a day off, but she hadn't thought much of it._ John mentioned me? _She shook her head before her thoughts derailed. She could definitely have that freak out when she was back in her apartment with only the dog to judge her. "Then when do you want me to come over?"

"Does noon work for you?"

"Yeah, that works. Anything, in particular, you want me to bring over?"

"Whatever you think is needed." She looked down as her phone pinged with a message, slipping it back into her pocket after she sent back a quick response. "Hey, I gotta go but I'll see you tomorrow alright?"

Clarice nodded in almost stunned silence as she left, waving to Marcos as the couple walked out the door and wondering what the hell had just happened. She looked down at Zingo, "What do you think about that, girl?"

She just went back under her desk and curled in a ball.

Never had Clarice sympathized so much.

She sank into the chair with a sigh, "What the hell then."

…

_This is weird. _

She kept playing that thought over in her mind as she lugged all of Zingo's things into the elevator, waiting for the dog to follow her in before pushing the button for the third floor. Clarice glanced down at Zingo, who seem content to examine every corner curiously.

At least one of them seemed excited about this whole thing.

Clarice couldn't seem to unknot the tangled mess her stomach had become and she was irritated at herself because it wasn't like John would even _be _at the apartment. He wasn't going to be there watching her with those damn eyes of his…

_That's almost worse! How would you feel about someone snooping around your place?_

_Ding! _

Saved by the bell.

The elevator door opened, Clarice adjusting the weight in her arms before stepping out in the hallway and following Zingo down to the door. She kicked it lightly, hearing movement on the other side before Lorna opened it with a wide smile.

"Hey! Come in, come in!"

The apartment seemed different in the daytime, lighter and more open in a way that had little to do with the sunlight spilling through the windows. Granted, it wasn't like she'd been paying too much attention to it the last time she'd been here…

"Just set that stuff down on the couch."

Clarice put down the box, shaking out her arms and looked around.

She would've almost called the décor Spartan, with the white walls and beige furniture, if not for the splashes of red and yellow and turquoise in the form of the vibrant woven blanket draped over the couch, the single, matching throw pillow on the chair, and what appeared to be a handwoven basket sitting on the second to highest shelf of an immaculately kept bookcase.

She followed the blanket's pattern with her fingers, the fabric almost coarse.

Lorna hummed, "Beautiful, aren't they?"

She nodded. "Yeah, they are."

"I believe his grandmother made that one." She came over, holding out a beer. "Here."

She took a sip, "Thanks."

Lorna sat down, her eyes flicking to the bandage on her arm, "What happened?"

Clarice thought about shrugging the whole incident off, dismissing it as a fall and nothing more but then she remembered the instant he'd pinned her and there'd been nothing in his eyes. No fear. No anger. No panic. No…nothing. It was like whatever made John who he was wasn't there. He'd been empty.

And that _scared _her.

No matter how fine he said he was or how okay he appeared, that kind of dissociation from reality, even for a split second, wasn't something to take lightly and Lorna had known him for years, knew what he'd gone through overseas. Maybe she would know what to do… "I actually have to tell you something."

The woman frowned, "It's about John, isn't it?"

She sat down on the couch, "During our run three days ago, he had a…episode."

Lorna looked at the bandage with a grim expression, sitting down on the cushion next to her. She twisted the rings on her fingers, seeming to weigh something over in her mind. "What happened? Did he hurt you?"

"Not intentionally, no." Her fingers lingered over the bandages, the ghost of his touch still sending a pins-and-needles feeling through her arm. "We were in the park. A passing car backfired and I guess he thought it was a gunshot or something because in the next second, we were on the ground and he was shielding me…"

Lorna let out a long breath, running a hand through her hair, "Damnit, John."

She didn't sound angry…more frustrated and sad than anything else, but Clarice still felt like she should say something in defense, "I'm sorry. I tried to avoid any possible triggers-"

"This isn't your fault, Clarice, or your responsibility. This is on him." Lorna's voice was stern but not unkind as she looked at Clarice, "Marcos and I have been trying to get him to talk to someone since he's gotten back, but we didn't want to push it further and risk him shutting us out completely. He seemed intent on trying to handle everything on his own. Said he doesn't want to be a burden on anyone else…"

The late-night conversation came to mind. "But…"

"His PTSD is only getting worse. He's hurt himself and now you and even though I know he didn't mean to…that flashback was the tipping point." Her eyes flitted to the bookshelf, where a row of framed pictures sat. "He needs to realize that this isn't something he can muscle his way through on sheer stubbornness alone. He needs outside help."

"Something tells me he's going to fight it."

"So you know the type?"

"I _was _him, a decade ago."

"Oh?" Lorna raised a brow, "What changed?"

"Almost joined a gang." She was as surprised at her own casual admittance of it as Lorna was, "I…made a _lot_ of stupid mistakes. My last foster mom got me out, but it wasn't without its struggles, trust me."

She hummed, "Well…thank you for telling me. And for not…"

"Not what?"

"Not…avoiding him. Push him away."

"Why would I do that?" She frowned, "It was an accident, not a deliberate attack."

"You'd surprised how many people would tell you otherwise." Lorna pushed herself up off the couch, grabbing two beers from the fridge and opening them before handing one to Clarice and sitting back down. "That would tell you he's dangerous, unstable, and that one day, he'll snap and kill you."

_Overdramatic much? _"You sound like you speak from experience."

"I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder at thirteen." She took a long drink, once again looking at the pictures before turning back to Clarice, watching her with an intense stare, "Doesn't exactly make you a lot of friends."

"Teenagers are assholes."

Lorna laughed, "Some adults too."

Clarice hummed in agreement, her response interrupted by the arrival of John and Marcos. She couldn't help the guilt churning in her stomach, feeling as though she'd betrayed some unspoken trust by talking to Lorna.

Lorna reached over to squeeze her knee, seeming to read her mind as the guys got drinks from the fridge. "Don't worry about it, alright? I won't say anything to him right now. No sense ruining his good mood right now."

Clarice looked over right as he laughed at something Marcos said, that dimpled grin sending her heart somersaulting in her chest. It was strange to have that moment he'd completely slipped from reality still fresh in her mind as laugh lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes. She swallowed, tearing her gaze away, her voice almost at a whisper, "What happened?"

She glanced at the two, responding in an equally quiet tone, "He was in charge and people died. I don't know the details, but I know he'll always blame himself for what went wrong regardless of the circumstances. I only know that much because I know John. It's hard for him to accept that there's nothing he could have done to change what happened."

Her heart ached for him. She knew the weight of regret…still carried it to this day.

Clarice thought back to the number of times she'd had to reassure him that she was okay, that she wasn't mad at him, that she didn't blame him for his actions in those split seconds of mindless panic…and Clarice was sure that her placating words had had little effect.

"He'll probably freak out that I even mentioned that much."

"It's like you said…I'm not going mention anything." She shrugged, nails clinking on the bottle as the next words came out almost absently, "We all have our own stories to tell on our own time."

"Who said that?"

"My foster…actually my adoptive mother, Denise."

She took a swig, "Sounds like a smart woman."

"Oh, she is. You should ask John about her sometime, he met her last week."

Lorna started smiling as she leaned forward with an almost conspiratorial air, "Let me guess, he said something along the lines of-" she cleared her throat before tipping an invisible cowboy hat, voice suddenly thickening with a godawful Southern accent, "_It's a pleasure to meet you, Ma'am?" _

She snorted out a laugh, unable to stop it.

"When, in the five years we've known each other, have I _ever_ talked like that?"

Clarice just barely negated the urge to jump at the nearness of John's voice behind her as he walked around the couch. She adverted her eyes as he lowered himself into the chair adjacent to them because _seriously did he wear shirts that tight on purpose or…_

"So you don't call everyone _Sir _and _Ma'am_?"

"It's respectful and you know that's not what I'm talking about."

"Come on brother, you know all you're doing is goading her." Marcos leaned against the armrest, pressing a kiss to Lorna's temple, "Take from me, Clarice. Never get into an argument with this one."

Clarice blinked, startled at being pulled into this conversation. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts into some semblance of order and it wasn't helping that she could feel John's eyes on her as she grinned at the couple, "I'll keep that in mind."

Lorna grinned, "Smart girl."

With a modicum of bravery she didn't think she had, she turned to met John's eyes with a crooked smile and a raised brow, "Smarter than some," she took another long drink of her beer.

Marcos laughed and Clarice wondered if anyone else noticed John's eyes drop to her mouth. Or maybe she was just imagining it all, putting images and thoughts into her mind that had her imagining…_things_ best left for any other time but right then.

Lorna cleared her throat.

Clarice somehow managed to tear her eyes away, face burning, and was glad to see John do the same. It gave her hope that whatever she'd told Lorna wouldn't mess whatever they had up before it'd barely started…


	7. Chapter 7

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I said Saturday for this update but I've had the worst writer's block about halfway through the chapter and it took me a few days to get over it. Nothing too big happens in this chapter but I hope you like it. Let me know what you all think!

* * *

She lifted her head as the bell above the door rang to see Lauren running in five minutes late and absolutely vibrating with nerves, checking her phone twice in the minute it took her to reach the desk and drop her things behind it. "Happy Birthday, Lauren."

The girl looked up, noticeably distracted, "Oh, uh…thanks."

Clarice frowned, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, it's just…" she ran a hand through her hair, worrying her lip, "Christina supposed to be landing soon and I-"

Ah. "You haven't talked to your parents yet." She kept her voice as soft as she could, not wanting the statement to be mistaken as an accusation. Clarice remembered how terrified she'd been of speaking to Mama D, even after the woman had pulled her from that hell.

She shook her head, "I've tried, but every time I go to open my mouth, it's like-"

"The words are trapped?"

Lauren nodded, "And then I keep imagining all these worst-case scenarios and-" she swallowed thickly, brown eyes flitting nervously to the phone in her hand, "and I'm terrified that they'll be disappointed or that they won't…love me any more or-"

"Lauren, hey..." Clarice cut her off, "just breathe. Look at me."

Wide eyes met hers.

"I know you may not believe me but I have a hard time believing your parents could ever stop loving you." She shoved aside the pessimistic thoughts of the less than happy coming out stories she'd heard growing up. She'd met both Caitlyn and Reed on a couple of occasions. They seemed like amazing parents, if only slightly overbearing. "You know, the offer still stands."

"You don't have to be there. I'll have Andy and Christina."

She smiled, "You can never have enough people supporting you, Lauren."

Lauren wrapped her arms around Clarice, "You're a good friend, you know that?"

Her eyes burned as she returned the hug. No matter how many times the girl said it, the word sent a pang through her chest, the hole Lily had left aching like a wound that had never truly healed. She forced the feeling aside, pulling back and clearing her throat, "So you keep telling me."

"Why do you always doubt yourself?"

_Because the last person who called me friend never saw her sixteenth birthday._ The thought once again was startling and caused that ache to flare again. Lauren turned nineteen today and Clarice couldn't help but wonder what Lily would've looked like at that age or-

She worked her jaw. Stop.

The what-ifs and what-could-have-beens would drive her mind if she let them.

Hell, at one point in time, she'd given them free rein.

Not something she wanted to experience again…

"Clarice?"

She blinked, broken from her reverie, "Hmm?"

"Is something wrong?"

"No, I…" she let out a long breath, "just got lost in thought there."

"Thinking about John again?"

Clarice raised a brow, "I do think about other things, Lauren."

"Yes, but very few things actually distract you like that." Lauren grinned, her worry shifting into a light teasing air. Her own concerns on the back burner for now, she slipped her phone into her pocket, "And you didn't answer my question."

Clarice sighed. She'd almost gone five minutes without thinking about him and then Lauren had to go and bring him up again. She kept replaying her conversation with Lorna over and over again and couldn't help but connect that with his absence this morning.

Was he mad at her?

Stop, she chastised herself, this doesn't have anything to do with you. Whatever battle was going on in his head had been being waged for longer than she'd known him and he needed people like Lorna and Marcos supporting him. She'd done what she could.

"_You could never have enough people supporting you."_

Her own words struck her then and once again, she wondered if her support would be welcomed or if John would don that mask that completely shoved down every demon and every shadow because he didn't want to show her those parts of himself for her sake.

She didn't want to be a reason he didn't get help.

"Clarice?"

_Damnit_. "Nothing's happened, Lauren."

She frowned, "Does it have anything to do with why you were running alone this morning?"

"He had a bad night." She offered vaguely, hating that she was relying on Lauren's overtly kind nature to avoid talking about John any more, and she held herself back from tugging her sleeve down over the bandage. All that would do was invite more questions. "I didn't want to push him into something else so soon."

Sadness flickered in her eyes, "You're worried."

"I am, but he's getting help so…" she shrugged.

Lauren looked like she wanted to say something when her cell phone started ringing and she read the caller ID with the brightest smile Clarice had ever seen from the girl, "Hey! You've landed?" she turned away when Clarice raised an eyebrow, "I would but…I'm still at work. I could check and see if maybe-"

"I can spare you, _go_." she motioned to the door, her smile widening into a grin as a thought occurred to her, "In fact, bring her by. There's only two hours 'til closing and I would _love _to finally meet this girl."

Lauren went bright red as Christina said something in response, sputtering out, "Clarice says you can come over if you…okay." She blinked, shocked at her girlfriend's quick response, "Then I will see you in a few minutes…okay." She worried her lip, "Bye."

Clarice chuckled as she watched Lauren scrambled to grab her things, nearly dropping her phone twice in the process, "You are a hot mess, aren't you?"

Lauren shot her a look as she went to leave, "Like _you're_ one to talk."

"I'm only returning the favor," Clarice called out right as the door shut.

Which then left her alone with her thoughts once more and she tried to busy herself by sweeping the floors and reorganizing the displays and checking on all the dogs bouncing around their kennels, but still the worries she had about John kept circling in her mind again and again like some depressing carrousel.

Never had she wanted to run so badly before, to push herself until the sound of blood rushing through her head was the only thing she could hear, where the burning in her legs and in her lungs was the only thing she could feel…

Clarice sighed, pushing her hair to the side as she straightened from her crouch by one of the food bowls. _Maybe later_, she promised herself as she washed her hands. There was no reason to stress herself now when it hadn't even been twenty-four hours since she'd last seen him.

He had Marcos and Lorna. They would make sure he was okay.

She dried off her hands, returning to the front desk as her cell phone started ringing. She glanced down at the caller ID before answering, the sound of chaos immediately coming through the other side of the phone, "Hey, Mama, what is it?"

"There was a seven-car pile-up and we just got flooded with patients. Could you pick up Norah from soccer practice?" She covered the phone with her hand for a moment as she said something to someone else, "I know it's just before closing but-"

"No, that's alright. I can get her." she glanced around the store, "It's been a slow day."

"Oh, thank you so much, sweetie." A shout and muffled crash sounded from the background, and the woman let out a long, suffering sigh before speaking rapidly into the phone, "I gotta go, Clarice, but I'll talk to you later. Love you, bye."

"Love you too, Mama." was all Clarice could get out before the call ended. She looked down at the phone and shook her head with a small smile, setting it aside right as the bell above the door rang, signaling Lauren's return with girlfriend in tow.

Christina was a beautiful Latina with a mass of black curls spilling down her shoulders and as she walked in the shelter with her hand in Lauren's, her expression showed nervousness when she looked around, clearly wary of Clarice.

She smiled at the girl, holding out a hand, "Hi Christina, I'm Clarice."

She took it hesitantly. "Hi."

"You don't need to be so nervous. Lauren's told me all about you."

Lauren flushed bright red when Christina raised an eyebrow, "Has she?"

Clarice laughed outright, "All good things. It's nice to finally you."

"You too." she gave her a small smile when Lauren pulled away to set her things back behind the desk, "I'm glad Lauren has someone like you. I didn't have anyone when I first started figuring everything out...besides my younger sister, Jazmine, but..."

"It's not the same, I know."

Christina brushed an errant curl from her face, "So, Lauren tells me you're seeing someone."

"Of course she did." She let out a long breath when Lauren grinned impishly, "What's one more person intruding in my relationship of barely a month?"

"So, there's a relationship?"

She shot a half-hearted glare at the girl, "There's something. But I'm not sure what yet."

"Will I get to meet him?"

"Probably not." she surmised, "He's with his friends today."

Christina hummed, saying nothing more.

…

Like she'd told Mama D, her and Lauren were able to close up early so that she could pick up Norah. She wished the two girls luck for their later conversation with the Struckers that night and had Lauren promise to call her to let her know how it went, good or bad.

Norah was excited to see Clarice, chatting excitedly the entire ten-minute home drive about how her coach was _finally _having her start as a forward in the upcoming game on Saturday which she made a note to attend if she could.

But as soon as she walked into her empty apartment, the worry from earlier came crashing back with vehemence and she didn't bother trying to shove it away. Instead, she changed into her running clothes, lacing up her tennis shoes and pulling her hair back into a ponytail before grabbing her phone and headphones.

She selected a playlist before she set a slow pace to start out, but paused about halfway through her run as her music trailed off as a call came through. Clarice gave herself a second to catch her breath, which was made pointless by Lorna's name flashing on the caller ID, "Hello?"

"Are you alone?"

"Uh, yeah I am."

"You haven't seen John today?"

"No." her stomach lurched, "No, I haven't. Haven't heard from him either? Why what happened?"

"Our conversation...devolved, to put it simply. Angry words were exchanged and he stormed out without taking his phone with him." Her normally calm tone was laced with concern, "It's been three hours since and we haven't seen or heard from him and we were hoping you had."

"No. It's been radio silence all day." she was trying to remain calm, "Should I be worried?"

"I don't know. But if he finds you..."

"I will let you know immediately."

"Thank you, Clarice."

She stared down at the phone as the call ended, completely frozen to the spot for just a split second. Clarice couldn't help but flash back to the first time she'd witnessed the aftermath of a flashback or his explanation about his bandaged hands or even the blind panic in his eyes as he'd thrown her to the ground. Even though she'd only seen glimpses of it, she could almost imagine what would happen when his anger finally boiled over completely. With his obvious self-destructive tendencies, she didn't like the trails her mind was taking.

So, she ran, sprinting the rest of the way back to her apartment, not caring how ragged her breathing was or how much her muscles burned or that she would surely be sore in the morning. The exhaustion that hit when she toed off her shoes and collapsed onto her bed was welcome but her sleep was restless and addled with images of empty eyes and bloody fists, Clarice waking to the sound of banging on her front door a few short hours later and she pushed past the soreness to open it, the person standing in the doorway shocking her awake.

"John?"


	8. Chapter 8

AUTHOR'S NOTE: God, I am so sorry for such a long wait on this part as real life has been pretty hectic for me, but I promise I am already working on the next part as we post this! This chapter is from John's POV so there are warnings in effect in regards to unhealthy coping mechanisms and a brief mention of attempted assault (and actual assault) towards the end of the chapter. Let me know what you all think!

* * *

"John?"

He looked up when Marcos said his name, the concern clear in his dark eyes, trying to remember what they'd been talking about in this first place before he'd caught sight of Lorna and Clarice over on the couch and come to the conclusion that they'd been talking about him. "Hmm?"

"You alright, brother?"

"Yeah." He forced a smile, "I'm fine."

Marcos looked like he wanted to say something in response when Lorna walked back into the room, the expression on her face not boding well for the conversation that was about to happen, and it seemed had picked up on it as well.

"Babe, what is it?"

John forced his aching body upright, "She told you...didn't she?"

Lorna pursed her lips, glancing at Marcos before coming to sit next to John, keeping her distance from him as she took a deep breath. "She was concerned John...and scared by what happened. And frankly so am I."

Marcos was silent, putting the pieces together.

He threaded his fingers together, "I was just a slip, Lorna. It won't happen again."

She raised a brow, "Do you really believe that, John?"

John sighed, "I know my own mind."

She huffed out a bitter laugh, "Maybe before the I.E.D., you did, but..."

He gritted his teeth, the comment sparking his temper, his knuckles turning white as he let out a long, steadying breath. The last thing he needed was to snap at them now. "You don't know anything about that day."

"I know that you blame yourself." She stated simply, "For leading them-"

"Lorna." his voice hardened, "_Stop_."

"_I'm hit, John! I'm hit!" _

Marcos' tone was full of warning. "Lorna..."

He lifted his head, wondering what expression he wore that warranted the tightening of her shoulders, but he didn't linger too much on it. He was all too eager to end this conversation as soon as possible...for all their sakes. "I told you I would handle it, alright. I know my triggers and I know my limits."

"You have a habit of pushing your limits, John." Marcos cut in, not sensing John's building agitation, his voice irritatingly calm as he continued. "Of telling everyone that everything is okay when you're really not. This morning proved that-"

"_I. Am. Fine._" He forced through clenched teeth, "Just drop it."

"You are not fine, John." Lorna continued, "Clarice said it wasn't just the car...that after you looked at her, you were completely _gone_. You are not okay. If you were, you wouldn't have had such a reaction to seeing her hurt. "

_He pressed down on the hole in his stomach, the pained groan cutting through him like the shrapnel currently imbedded in his skin and his throat tightened, "I'm right here, Gus. Just look at me, alright?"_

_He coughed, blood bubbling from his lips and seeping through John's fingers, "John…"_

John shook his head, feeling the thread of memories trying to pull him away from the present and into the past. His heart pounded in his ears, sounding too much like that explosion...he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push it out.

"_Can you…say it…please?"_

"_I love you." _

"_I love you so much."_

"I'm worried, John." Lorna's voice cut through the white noise for a moment, soft with concern and sympathy. She stood slowly, approaching with her hands up. "We all are. You don't have to talk to us about it if you don't want to..."

"Then why are we talking about it at all?" John snapped at her, numb to the flicker of pain he saw cross her and Marcos' faces as he lifted his head. He was numb to everything but the static crackling underneath his skin and invading his thoughts, itching to be released in any way it could.

She frowned, meeting his anger head-on despite Marcos' clear worry, "Because you need to talk to _someone_, John. Bottling up all of that pain and anger and guilt isn't healthy and I don't want to see you-"

"I don't think you're the one to talk about healthy coping mechanisms."

Wounded anger flashed in her eyes and some distance part of him instantly regretted the words, knowing just how long it had taken her to open up to him about her diagnosis and that throwing her trust back like that would have consequences, but right now...right now all he cared about was getting them to just _stop talking_...

"Clearly, whatever it is you're doing to handle it isn't working anymore." Marcos looked more sad than angry as he spoke, wrapping an arm around Lorna. "You've hurt Clarice, John. This has grown beyond your control-"

"And I said it won't happen again." He blinked, but flashes of his hands smeared with blood bombarded and he shot up off the couch, his aching back completely forgotten. His voice was losing its hard edge, cracking under the strain of holding everything back, "I won't hurt her or anyone else again."

_Her hand cracked against his cheek, "This is all your fault!"_

"_Sweetheart..."_

"_My son is dead and it is your fault!"_

He shook his head, hands trembling at his sides.

"And what about you, John?" Lorna softened her voice.

John ran a hand through his hair, "What about me?"

"The nightmares have been getting worse and you haven't been sleeping well since you've come back." She swallowed, gaze flitting down to his hands, "And don't think I didn't miss the broken mirror...or the split knuckles."

_They're afraid of you. They want you gone..._

Fear trickled down his spine at the thoughts, "And?"

"You're punishing yourself, John." She was searching his face for something, eyes shining with tears, "You're punishing yourself for what happened then and what's happening now and you don't need to do that. You've already been through so much..."

"You don't know what you're talking about." John could hear the warning in his own voice, a subconscious effort to spare them from the impending implosion that would happen should they continue. "You know nothing about what happened or what I deserve."

"This isn't serving penance, John." Marcos' dark eyes were pleading, the words carrying the weight of someone who'd had their fair share of shit in life. Who knew what his reasoning was because they'd thought the same, "All you're doing is hurting yourself. Causing yourself pain isn't going to change what happened."

"Believe me, I'm well aware of that."

"Then why..."

"Stop trying to fix me!" Something in the back of his mind snapped, red encroaching on his vision in that split second as he spun around, putting his fist through the nearest wall. "I'm not your fucking project!"

For a moment, his mind was blissfully quiet.

Then the sound of drywall crumbled to the floor, breaking through the silence in his head and John stared down at the white dust coating his knuckles and he slowly turned around, horror washing over him as Marcos put himself in front of Lorna. Shielding her...from _him. _

He stumbled back, the static crashing back over him like a tsunami, "I..."

Lorna moved past her husband, "John..."

He shook his head, "Stay away from me!"

She flinched at the clear panic, the tears finally spilling over, "John, it's alright-"

"No, it's not!" He shouted, the noise and the images and their voices and their pain were too much. They were all too much and he needed to leave. He needed to leave now before he hurt anyone else. "No, it's...I...I need to go."

He didn't hear them calling his name as he spun around and yanked open the door, running down the hall and somehow finding the stairwell, not caring where he went as long as was away from his friends. Away from anyone he could hurt...

_They'll never let you come back, you know._

He had enough mind to leave his bike, moving down the sidewalk mindlessly, and he knew he should feel bad for the people he barreled past, ignoring the venomous looks they shot him. But the static was numbing him to everything at the moment and he kept moving.

…

He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking, but the sky had begun to darken and with it came to the rumbling of engines and the honking horns of people trying to get home, compounding with the noise still echoing in his mind and his head throbbed with the beginning of a headache and he just wanted it all to _stop_...

A woman's muffled cry brought him to halt just outside a bar.

He followed the sound without thinking, the sight of three drunk men cornering a woman clearly just trying to get home broke the last threads of self-control, a scarlet haze washing over him as he grabbed the closest man and spun him around.

His fist connected with a satisfying crack, blood spurting from a broken nose.

The other two, realizing they had company, let the woman go to charge at him.

John shoved one of them back, head snapping to the side as knuckles from another clipped his jaw. The blow did little to stun him, John punching the first man again, sending him stumbling backwards and ducking under a wild swing of the second.

Something hard and flat, most likely a two by four, struck his lower back directly over the scar tissue, and the agony struck him like a bolt of lightning. His vision whitened at the edges for just a second and he staggered forward until he found purchase on a brick wall, blood filling his mouth as he bit back his cry of pain.

Another strike to the back sent him to the ground, the barrage of blows coming at John from every direction and for a long moment, everything inside him was gone: the voices, the images, the memories, the blood…

The moment passed and he surged upright, growling as he lashed out at the men, his training kicking into high gear as he threw an elbow into one man's chest before he grabbed another, taking his shoulders and driving his knee up, the man dropping to the ground unconscious.

The others quickly followed, and John spat out the blood as he went to straighten, groaning as a sharp line of pain shot up his spine. He screwed his eyes until it passed, wrapping an arm around his stomach as he lifted his head to figure out where he was at.

The scarlet haze was gone and as he stood, he found that the quiet had remained but when John looked down at groaning men, he was overcome with guilt at letting his anger take him over so completely. He looked down his hands, bruised and bloody, and staggered back.

He had no thought to where he was going as he began walking, body trembling as he pushed it forward down the familiar jogging path and up the two flights of stairs. But when he knocked on the door and found Clarice's brilliant green eyes staring back at him, the last vestiges of his strength fled as he leaned heavily on her door frame.

"John?"


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: I am sorry to anyone that has been waiting for the next chapter. I found it a bit difficult to work on the story when the show was canceled but with all of my newfound free time, I have decided to come back to this story. There are no big trigger warnings for this chapter except to apologize for any medical inaccuracies involving John's injuries (past and present) as well as the medication he takes for them as I am _not_ a doctor.

Thank you to all that are still with me and welcome to anyone new! Hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think!

* * *

"John?"

Clarice stared at the man in front of her, trying to reconcile this beaten, bloody shell to the smiling, laughing man she'd last glimpsed as she'd left Lorna and Marcos' apartment only hours before. She couldn't shake the small voice in the back of her mind that said this was her fault. That her telling Lorna had been the last straw for John…

He looked up, his eyes going straight through her. "Clarice…"

She slowly ran her gaze over him, from the bruising covering his face to the arm wrapped around his middle and the split knuckles on both hands and hated the picture that was forming in her mind as she recalled his bruised knuckles from before, knowing that it would only take a spark from some asshole to have him snap…

And snap he did…

She went to wrap an arm around him to steady him, applying light pressure his back, and was surprised when a strangled sound had him pulling away like she'd burned him. Clarice examined the dark fabric with just her eyes, feeling some relief that there was no visible blood there or anywhere other than his face. "Come on…"

Grimacing with every step, he came inside her apartment.

She shut the door with her foot, keeping herself from putting too much pressure on his back as she guided him further in. Clarice didn't want him sitting just yet, not wanting to aggravate a possible spinal injury any more than he had by walking here. "John?"

"Hmm?"

"I need to lift your shirt, alright…so I can see what happened?"

John clenched his jaw, but nodded.

Clarice made sure her movements were as slow and deliberate as possible as she pulled up the hem of his shirt. She hadn't been sure what to expect, but what she did find was horrifying and heartbreaking at the same time.

Underneath the darkening bruises (no doubt made from a pipe or board of some kind), his back was absolutely covered in scars that ranged from half an inch in length to one that looked to be nearly three inches long that was way too close to his spine…

It looked like he'd been in an-

Tears burned her eyes as she stopped that train of thought immediately, forcing herself to focus on his recent injuries: bruises that covered his back and his ribs and his stomach and no doubt his chest…

She knew the marks a fist or a boot left on the body and from what she could see, it looked as though he'd been knocked to the ground and beaten…by multiple people. Clarice swallowed, dropping his shirt, "Your back…how badly does it-"

He swallowed, "Been worse."

She frowned, trying not to be irritated with his attempt to push down his pain for her sake. Clarice could tell by how he held himself that every movement he made hurt and she hated seeing him in pain. "Think you can manage a shower?"

"I don't want to…"

"John." She forced a small smile, "Can you manage a shower?"

He nodded.

"Okay. It's down the hall, first door on the left." She motioned past the kitchen, already moving towards her room, phone in hand. "I'll grab you a change of clothes and set it right outside the bathroom for you."

His brow furrowed, but he didn't say anymore as he followed her instructions.

Clarice waited until the water started running before calling Lorna, not having to wait for more than a single ring before she answered. She didn't even have time to get a word out before the other woman spoke.

"Is it John? Did you hear from him?"

"If showing up beaten to hell is hearing from him then…"

"He's there right now?"

"Yeah." She started to her room, "I managed to get him into the shower but…" Clarice trailed off, recalling the scars littering his back, "His back seemed to take a large part of the hits. There was a huge bruise across his lower back that looked like it was from a pipe or something…"

"Near the scar?"

Clarice knew exactly which one she was talking about and really didn't like the tone Lorna was using. It wasn't helping the story her mind was supplying in regards to what had happened to him "Yes, directly over it actually."

"Shit." She put her hand over the speaker, yelling something to Marcos and waiting for his similarly muffled response before removing it, "How did he seem when he came in? Was he walking okay?"

Her stomach flipped, "He was staggering quite a bit, but I figured that was because of the fight but then I accidentally applied pressure to his back…" she recalled the sound he'd made, fingers tightening on the phone, "It's worse than he's letting on."

"When it comes to John, everything is."

She worried her lip, "What else can I do?"

"Just keep a close eye on him. I'll bring by a change of clothes and his meds."

"His meds?"

Lorna sighed, "The shrapnel left a mess of scar tissue and damaged nerves and honestly if it weren't for these damns meds…" she trailed off as Marcos said something, her voice laden with sadness, "I'll be there in ten, but I can't stay."

"You're not…"

The bitter smile could be heard, "He won't want to see me right now given what happened before he stormed out so…" the sound of a door shutting came through, "it's fine for now. I understand why. I'm just sorry that you…"

"I'm okay, Lorna." Clarice was itching to know what the hell had been said to completely shove John right off the edge, but knew that wasn't her place. If he wanted to say anything (which she highly doubted) then he would, but for now… "He's here and not out there. That's all the matters for now."

"That's optimistic of you."

"Yeah well…" she trailed off, "I've learned not to take things for granted."

Lorna hummed, "Well, thank you for calling. I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah." She glanced at the closed bathroom door. "See you in a few."

Clarice set her phone on the table, running a hand down her face as she listened to the sound of the water still running in the bathroom, trying to process the things she'd learned about him in such a short time.

She moved to her bedroom, digging through her dresser and closet for even one article of clothing that could possibly fit him, but even with all the stuff she'd taken from various foster brothers over the years, all she could manage was a pair of basketball shorts.

It would have to be enough until Lorna came.

Clarice moved one of her barstools next to the bathroom door and laid the folded shorts on top, not want him attempting to bend over with his back in its current condition, before going back into the kitchen to grab two glasses.

She paused as the bathroom faucet turned off and the water trickled to a stop.

The door creaked open.

She set the glasses down, "John?"

A muffled groan and the scraping of barstool followed, "Yeah, I'm good."

Clarice stopped herself from going over to visibly check on him, taking his word that he was well enough to stand upright and walk on his own and forcing herself to continue with what she'd been doing as the door shut again.

Filling the glasses took all of one minute, so she found herself wandering around her own apartment. She paused in front of the photo of her and Mama D with little Norah on her hip, recalling the day the picture had been taken.

It'd been the day her adoption papers had gone through, nearly two years after the trial, and Clarice could still remember the small flicker of warmth she'd felt as Mama D had wrapped her arm over her shoulders and pulled her close: the feeling that she'd finally found the home that she and Lily had dreamed about night after night in that place…

"_Do you believe we'll ever get out of here?" Clarice asked when Lilly sat behind, fingers dividing her dark violet strands as the started to braid, staring at their cramped, shared living space; the faded wallpaper, the worn sheets on the bed…_

"_I like to think we will." Lily's voice was warm, hands not pausing._

"_How are you always so hopeful?"_

_Her smile was audible, "Why are you such a Debbie Downer?"_

_Clarice snorted, "Seriously though…how?"_

"_There will be a light at the end of this tunnel. There always is."_

Clarice was pulled from the memory by a knocking at her door and she walked quickly to the door, opening it to reveal Lorna with a backpack in hand, and she couldn't help but notice her somber expression. "Hey."

Lorna gave her a thin smile, "How is he?"

"Beaten to hell," Clarice replied simply, wincing at how blunt she was when Lorna grimaced at her words. The memory of her and Lily's conversation the night before everything went wrong came back to her and she wished she had the other girl's tact, "…I'm sorry, that was blunt."

She shook her head, "No, I appreciate your honesty."

Clarice took the bag that was handed to her. "Lorna-"

"Keep me updated?"

She blinked, not sure what else to say other than, "Of course."

Lorna nodded, turning to walk back down the hallway.

Clarice watched her go, waiting until she moved around the corner before turning and shutting her door. She set the bag on the counter, pulling out the bright orange pill bottles and setting them on the counter, frowning at the semi-familiar names of diazepam, naratriptan, and oxycodone…

_How much pain was he in?_

"Who was that?"

She turned to his voice, throat going dry.

If he hadn't been in such pain, she might've taken the moment to appreciate the view of his bare chest because whatever training regime he kept up with since he'd been back had done its job _very well_…

Clarice swallowed, "Lorna."

The scary emptiness flashed across his face before he pushed it away.

"She brought by your meds, a change of clothes and a…" She pulled out the folded sweatpants, boxers, and tank top from the bag and set them down on the counter, trailing off as she felt something else in the bag, She withdrew it completely, "…brace for your back. She thought you would find it best if she wasn't here right now."

He nodded, "And what do you think?"

She was sure he expected her to say that she thought him at fault, that he needed to leave her alone because he could hurt her…but she refused to voice anything of the sort, instead walking over to him, "I think you need to let me look at those bruises."

John frowned, "Clarice…"

She shook her head, "Nope, no arguing."

He looked as though he were about to do just that when he let out a gasp and staggering forward into the couch, fingers going white-knuckled on the back of the couch as every muscle in his upper body locked up.

Clarice could only watch, her heart breaking as tears silently trailed down his cheeks, his eyes squeezed shut and his face twisted up in such pain. She forced her own tears back, going back and grabbing the bottle labeled _oxycodone _and reading the instructions, dumping two pills into her palm.

The moment stretched on for ten seconds, fifteen seconds, thirty seconds…

He sagged into the couch, seeming drained of any strength he had left.

"John?"

He let out a long breath, hanging his head.

She grabbed a glass of water, setting both it and the pills down on the coffee table before moving to his side, her hands hovering over his arm. Clarice wasn't sure if he would actually welcome her help, "Can I?"

He gritted his teeth as another brief muscle spasm hit him, "Yes."

Clarice's eyes flitted to his scarred and bruised back and a small part of her was tempted to call in Mama D but she dismissed it. He'd come to her after what had happened, showing her that he trusted her enough to at least help. Whether or not it extended any further remained to be seen, but Clarice would do what she could with what she had.

Despite spending years under the roof of a trained emergency room nurse, though, she didn't gain nearly enough knowledge on how to properly deal with a potential aggravated spinal injury of any kind and her only source of information would be from an unreliable patient…

"One second."

She picked up the pills from the coffee table and returned them to their bottle, bringing the three bottles back over to where he stood stiffly, not wanting to give him too much of something or the wrong prescription altogether. "I know that the oxy is for but which one is the one you take for the muscle spasms? That's what going on right?"

"Yes." He nodded stiffly, "Diazepam."

"Can you take them now or do you need to wait…?"

He shook his head, "Now is fine."

_Fine?_

Clarice bit back any comments, sure that her usual defense of sarcasm would not be appreciated in the moment. She set two of the bottles down and opened the other, dropping a single pill into her palm and holding it out for him.

He popped it in and gulped down the water, head dropping once more.

Not wanting to risk the chance of a painful spasm, she walked over to him, making sure her steps could be heard as she moved around the end of the couch. Clarice stopped when she could feel the warmth coming off his skin, "I need to look at your ribs-"

"I'm fine, Clarice."

"No, you're not." She hardened her voice, fingers brushing his flank, "Please, John-"

His attempt to sidestep her touch had him sucking in a sharp breath, his knuckles turning white where they gripped the couch for a moment before slackening. He kept his head down, black hair blocking his face from her view, "I'm _fine_, Clarice. Please, just-"

"You came to _me_, John." She let the words hang for a few seconds, "You came _here_ when you could've gone anywhere else so you are going to let me look over your injuries or I will call Mama D and she will drag you to the hospital."

He remained silent for nearly a minute before he lifted those dark eyes to hers.

Clarice could see the warmth buried in them and smiled, "Let's get started then."


	10. Chapter 10

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Look at me, updating semi-quickly. I think I'm finally starting to see where I want to go with this story (or so I say now), but I hope to be posting a lot more frequently. Hope you all enjoy it and let me know what you think!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: blood, mentions of past child abuse

* * *

Despite her insistence that he let her help, Clarice hesitated after she asked him to first prop himself against the couch so she could better see his ribs. It wasn't the closeness of him that was the reason (although on any other day it would've), but the constant whirl of thoughts about what could've caused his injuries, both past and present.

She knew better than to ask, though, and considered herself lucky that she'd gotten this far with him. There was a fine line between being stubborn and being flat-out rude, one that she'd crossed one too many times growing up and she didn't want to cross it with him.

John hissed as she pressed a little too hard on the bruising along his ribs.

She pulled back, "Shit, sorry."

"It's fine."

Clarice looked up, "You're sure your ribs aren't broken?"

"Yes. I've broken them before." He went to take a breath and winced as his chest expanded, "I remember the feeling. It's not one you forget." He met her gaze, frowning at whatever he saw on her face, "Clarice, what's wrong?"

She cursed his perceptiveness. "Nothing."

"Clarice…"

"This isn't about me, John, it's about you." She walked around the couch and down the hall to grab her first aid kit from under the bathroom sink, pausing when she saw the pile of rain-soaked clothes on the tile floor as well as the smudges of red on the counter that could only have been blood.

She didn't linger, though, returning to the main area and setting the box on the cluttered coffee table, aware of John's eyes on her as she opened it and pulled out the necessary supplies for his hands. "Can you turn around?"

"Clarice…"

"I need to look at your back."

"No, you don't." He voice was measured, "Just help me with my brace."

She straightened and turned around, surprised to find eyes silently pleading with her to just leave it be. To not ask the questions that anyone else would've when confronted with the alarming number of scars covering his back and Clarice restrained herself for reaching for the ink on her own side.

She held his gaze, "I need to look at your bruises is all. Nothing more than that."

He worked his jaw.

"If I was going to ask questions, I would've done it earlier." She searched his face, saddened to see those shadows back in his eyes. Shadows that she herself had had for nearly a year after Lily's death and Lorna's words came back to her…

"_He was in charge and people died."_

Her hand drifted to her side as a realization came to her and she looked down at her hand. Her chest tightened in pain, whether from anger or grief she wasn't entirely sure. He'd lost someone. Someone important to him. Someone like Lily. Someone he loved.

"_Fucking brat!"_

"_No! Lily!"_

Her ribs throbbed at the memory, eyes burning.

"Clarice?"

She blinked, returning her gaze to his and immediately grew wary of his cataloguing stare, old instincts urging her to back away, to run before he dug too deep, but she shut them out. Clarice knew he was just trying to shift her focus away from him and his scars and it felt like they'd reached some odd stalemate and she knew exactly how to break it.

He'd shown her so much in just the last few days, showing her parts of himself that few knew about or saw and now…now he was more vulnerable than he'd ever been. He'd essentially put himself at the mercy of her judgement and Clarice…Clarice had done what she'd always done when someone got too close, she hid herself away. Put distance between herself and whatever could (and usually would) cause her pain.

John wasn't Elijah. He would never harm her.

_Not intentionally…_

Clarice shook the paranoid thoughts aside, refusing into retreat to the mindset of that scared little girl who thought the world was out to hurt her. Who thought everyone who came into her life would abandon her when they realized how damaged she was. She needed to trust him like he was trusting her.

He'd showed her his scars. Now she would show him hers.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. Just…old memories is all." She almost laughed at the question, picking up the disinfectant wipes, gauze and bandages. She walked over and held out her hands, the sight not unlike the first time. "Can I see one of your hands please?"

He gave her his left hand without another word.

That same shock went up her arm as she took it, running a wipe over his split knuckles before turning it over to examine his palm. She didn't acknowledge him squeezing his eyes shut as her fingertips moved along the callused skin, but returned to the task at hand.

"Memories about what?"

Clarice paused as she reached for the gauze, "Not what. Who." She placed the gauze on his knuckles and began wrapping, the action somewhat calming considering the cause. "My foster father, Elijah."

"You don't have to-"

Clarice smiled up at him, "It's alright. A lot of things have been reminding me of him lately and it's just…" she looked away from those eyes, not really knowing what he would see in hers. She shook her head, "I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"You have nothing to apologize for Clarice."

She could've laughed at the absurdity that they just kept apologizing to each other for things that didn't warrant anything of the sort if the ghost of Elijah wasn't haunting the edges of her mind and Clarice was sure that her sleep would be anything but dreamless. Even after so long, he was never going to leave her be, a constant reminder of a past she'd do anything to forget…

"How do I remind you of him?"

Now she stopped moving, hating that that was the conclusion he'd already drawn for all the wrong reasons. He was already blaming himself for something that had nothing to do with him and she struggled to find a way to backtrack. To recover any ground in this conversation before it crashed and burned, but Clarice had only ever been good at running away from these talks in the first place. "You don't."

Those eyes bore into her and she'd felt as though he'd peeled back every barrier she'd ever put up to keep her past in the past and Clarice saw the realization hit him like a physical blow as he pulled his hand back like she'd burned him.

"He hit you."

A statement. Not a question.

Clarice swallowed, knowing there was no point in attempting to flat out lie to him and the thought of verbally affirming his words was just too much for her. Too much for her frayed nerves because it was too close. Too close to the events that had had her world falling apart around her. Too close to Lily. "It doesn't matter. It was a long time ago."

"Yes, it matters, Clarice."

She frowned at his tone, "Don't."

His hands flexed at his sides, "Don't what?"

"Don't talk about it like you know what happened." There was a surprising amount of venom in her voice considering the shaky ground they were already on but she'd always been protective of her time spent with Lily, no matter how bad it had been. She swallowed, "Just…let me finish looking at your hands."

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because _you_ came over to _my_ apartment." She sighed, softening her tone, "Look, we're both on edge right now and I don't want us to say anything we'll regret in the morning so let look me at the rest of your injuries…tonight's injuries, of course."

She physically cringed.

_Couldn't just stop while you were ahead, could you?_

But John didn't react to her painful slip of tongue, in fact, his expression was rather weary as he held out his left hand without another word. Those shadows were darker than before and Clarice hated that she'd had a part in that but there was little she could do about it now.

She cleaned and wrapped his hand in silence, examining the bruises on his back (with her eyes only) before picking up the used supplies while waiting for him to change into the clothing that Lorna had packed for him after forcing the folded articles into his hands. Anything to keep her mind from wandering, but memories of that night were so close to the surface now and she was so _tired_-

The bathroom door opened, revealing John in sweats and a tank top that actually fit him, dark strands falling out of a hastily done ponytail. He didn't look at her as he walked around her and the couch and picked up the brace, "I'll need help with this."

"Okay." She took it, "What do I need to do first?"

"Unhook all the Velcro straps and lay it out flat."

Clarice did a she was told, pulling away the straps with two quick tugs and laying the larger, curved board which must've been for his back, next to the smaller flat piece that was probably for his stomach. "Now what?"

He straightened himself slowly. "Hand me the abdominal panel."

She picked both parts up, handing him the smaller before standing behind him and lining up the back board with where his spine curved in and holding it in place with one hand, peering up at him, "What's next?"

John reached back for one of the Velcro strap, the movement clearly aggravating his ribs as he hissed out a curse as he faced forward. He took a measured breath, lifting one arm, "Bring the strap around and attach it to the front panel."

Clarice ducked under his arm, drawing it as tight as she could before pressing down on the panel over his stomach and Clarice was sure she wasn't the only one currently holding her breath. "I'm guessing I'm doing the same thing again?"

"Yes." He finally looked at her, "Remove your hand from my back."

She did so, watching as held his arms against his sides to keep the brace from falling and noticing just how tightly his jaw was clenched. No doubt his ribs were screaming from the compression. Clarice didn't say or do anything to acknowledge it. Doing so would accomplish nothing at this point and she didn't want to start another argument so she only pressed down on his stomach and pulled, "How tight?"

"I'll tell you when."

She felt him still in preparation before she pulled, forcing herself to ignore his sharp exhale and only stopped as he gasped out a stop, pushing the second strap down and stepping back. His physical presence was a lot on a normal day but right now…

John made his own adjustments before drawing two more straps across his stomach. He lifted his eyes to hers, something unknown swimming in his eyes as he opened his mouth then closed it, clearing it, "Clarice?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you…for the help."

She forced a smile, "No problem."

He moved around the couch, "You must be tired, I should-"

"Nope." She threw herself onto the cushions, stretching out along the full length of the couch, not realizing her shirt had ridden up until his eyes flitted to the sliver of inked skin and any worry about him seeing it was nulled but how quickly he looked away, "I call the couch. You can have the bed."

"Clarice, this is your-"

"Nope." She said again, popping the p and trying to keep her tone as light as she could, "You're beat to hell and wearing a back brace for God's sake. I see no reason in aggravating your injuries further by having you sleep on my shitty couch."

"But I'm your-"

She rolled to her feet, pitting a finger to his mouth, "No arguing. Bed. Now."

He raised an eyebrow.

Clarice's cheeks burned as she dropped her hand. "Seriously, I mean it. Go."

"Okay, okay, I'm going."

She waited until her bedroom door had shut behind him before she turned off the light and shuffled back over to the couch and pulling the throw blanket down and drawing it over her body as she curled onto her side. She strained to hear even the slightest of movements from her room, but there was nothing save for her own heartbeat in her ears.

So much had happened. So much had been said and Clarice itched to tie on her tennis shoes and _go_. Running had never failed to ease her before but every muscle in her legs was beginning to ache and tighten from her earlier and she knew she'd be stiff as hell come morning.

She stared at the digital blue clock on the microwave, watching the time pass and wishing she could shut her brain off long enough to fall asleep for a few hours but her thought keep bouncing from past the present, John's brown eyes blending with her own bright green, years of war and abuse showing in the scars on their bodies and their minds, taking pieces of their souls in the process and leaving shadows behind…

"_He was in charge and people died."_

"_Fucking brat!"_

"_No! Lily!"_

Her eyes burned with tears as she rolled over and buried her face in the cushion, the only thing that stopped her from screaming was the man in the next room who'd think it his fault when she was as much to blame for her reactions.

God, they were a mess.

A mess that would certainly show in the daylight.

_Fucking fantastic._


End file.
